


Nap Time

by musicofthenight



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Age Difference, Alex is a mess, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, George is a Senator, Hurt/Comfort, I know nothing about American politics, Jefferson is a colossal dick, M/M, Mention of past Alex/Eliza, Misuse of alcohol, Panic Attacks, Political AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:45:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 36,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7749214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicofthenight/pseuds/musicofthenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Alex blinked blearily as he came to. He groaned as the harsh light hit his eyes, and turned over, covering his face with his arm.<br/>“Ah, Hamilton,” a familiar voice said. “Good, I was about to wake you”.<br/>That’s Washington, Alex thought, unable to pinpoint exactly why his boss’s voice was calling him. And then he remembered."</p><p>Alex doesn't take care of himself very well, so Washington steps in to encourage his speech writer to get enough sleep. Based around the six times Alex falls asleep in Washington's office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic on AO3 so I'm very excited to be contributing to the community! Equally I'm still getting to grips with the format so sorry for any mishaps.
> 
> I would like to dedicate this fic to my wonderful friend Lucia who has been with me through it all, in relation to this fic and life in general! 
> 
> Also, you may notice some similarities between details of this story and the marvel that is "Quid Pro Quo" - that fic was my intro to Whamilton so lots of my headcannons were influenced by it.
> 
> Since the whole thing is already written I'm updating twice a day. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Katie  
> x

The first time it happens, Alex is mortified. Yes, okay, he hadn’t slept for 48 hours but honestly? That’s not too bad for him. He’s definitely gone longer than that before, and anyway, there was no way he would have been able to sleep with the deadline looming over his head and endless eddying words swirling in his brain. So, that Friday morning as he made his way into the office, Alex was looking a little worse for wear, but more importantly he had finished the draft of the speech Washington had asked for. After his second cup of coffee, blearily made in the small office kitchen, Alex felt half human again.

He sat at his desk, clicking repeatedly at the mail icon on the computer screen even as the hard drive whirred and beeped at him. “Come on, come on”, he muttered, half unaware of his own speech, leg jiggling impatiently beneath the table. A knock at the door made him start, and he looked around to see Lafayette leaning into the small corner office. The ever-stylish Frenchman raised an eyebrow.

“Working hard, Hamilton? You are – how you say – in disarray?”.

Alex, who struggled to make small talk at the best of times, simply sighed and replied, “Can I help you?” as he raised his coffee to his lips once more. Lafayette quirked an eyebrow again – it was really quite impressive how he could sculpt his expression into the perfect mixture of disdain and amusement.

“The General wishes to discuss the speech for the gala night with you at half past eleven. D’accord?”

“Oui, sure, whatever,” Alex murmured, distracted as his emails finally materialised on the screen. He blinked at the brightness of the screen and rubbed his eyes unconsciously. A chuckle behind him made him turn around and look questioningly at his co-worker. “Wait, why are you telling me this? Washington could have just emailed,” Alex asked.

“Ah, but Hammie”, Lafayette grinned, “I offered to pay you a visit on his behalf. I wanted to ask you something, petit lion!”

Alex groaned. It was far too early in the morning for him to come up with an adequately eloquent response to the office nickname, so in lieu of a response he simply stuck out his tongue. Yes, okay, it was a bit childish, but he’d been up all night writing and re-writing that speech until it was flawless. He was allowed to be a bit childish, he figured.

“Well go on then, shoot”, Alex prompted, fingers tapping against the desk. “I have something to do, Laf.”

“Don’t we all, mon ami,” Lafayette sighed. “But here is the question – do you have some _one_ to do?”

Alex, who had been taking another slug of coffee in an attempt to shift his brain into gear, coughed suddenly and narrowly avoided spitting the mouthful out again. Once he had regained his composure, he glared at the cackling Frenchman.

“Oh, piss off, Laf. It’s far too early in the morning for this conversation. And no, that date you set me up on was not a success, if that’s what you’re asking. If you even suggest another one then I swear to God -“

“Okay, okay, calm yourself,” Lafayette laughed, hands raised as he retreated from the office. “I only have your interest in my heart. And honestly, I thought that you would like him.”

Alex huffed a laugh again as his friend left the office. The date hadn’t been a complete disaster, but Burr – the friend of Lafayette – hadn’t booked the restaurant in advance so they’d had to wait for an hour to be seated. Alex had wanted to go somewhere else but his date had insisted that they wait for it and well, Alex’s ability to make conversation greatly diminishes when he’s hungry. He hadn’t meant to piss Burr off, but apparently not everyone appreciated listening to political tirades as they queue for their dinner. Who knew?

The next few hours were spent composing a new speech – or attempting to. The General, as they called him, hadn’t exactly asked for anything on the debt crisis in Puerto Rico, but Alex was hopeful that if he could really nail this speech, Washington might be convinced to look into it further and maybe bring media attention to the issues in the tiny island. It worth a try anyway, Alex reasoned. He usually lost himself in his writing, but today the words just wouldn’t flow and he rubbed his eyes in frustration. He glanced at the clock on his desk – 11:23. Now that he’d tuned into the ticking of the clock, the pangs of a headache made him wince as the relentless hand ticked with every passing second. Alex pressed his fingers to his temples and let his hair out of the bun he’d hastily scraped it into that morning, trying to calm the pain in his head. He ran a hand through his long hair as he mournfully looked at the empty mug of coffee. He didn’t have time for another one before meeting with Washington.

Covering his yawn with a hand, Alex pushed back his chair and stood up. As he did so, an unexpected wave of dizziness washed over him and he grabbed wildly at the desk to steady himself. _Get a grip_ , he mentally berated himself as he righted himself and made for the door. _You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re totally, completely, one hundred percent –_ his thoughts were interrupted by another wide yawn as he made his way down the corridor to Senator Washington’s office.

Alex raised a hand to knock twice on the door and paused until he heard Washington’s voice – “Come in”.

“You wanted to see me sir?” Alex asked as he came to stand in front of the desk. Washington’s office was the envy of all, with a plush chair, two computer monitors and even a stylish grey sofa lining one wall. The man himself was seated behind the large wooden desk, eyes down as he scanned through a document.

“Hamilton, good. I just wanted to go over a few of the more...controversial points that you included in the gala speech. Some of it was a little ‘out there’, son.” Washington still hadn’t looked up, and Alex felt a bubble of frustration rise in his chest as the dull ache behind his eyes worsened.

“Sir, with all due respect, I stand by everything that I wrote and if you want to have a positive influence on this country, you should too,” Alex snapped, and then he bit his lip, hard. _Shit._ He gulped as Washington finally raised his eyes to meet Alex’s, those strong brows raised in a way which asked _what did you just say to me?_ But then, as Washington took in Alex’s face, his frown deepened, not in anger, but in...concern?

“Hamilton,” Washington said slowly, “do you feel quite well?” Alex flushed.

“I’m fine, sir. My apologies, I spoke out of turn.” Washington continued to give him that piercing look, so he continued, “I have something of a headache, sir”. A piece of hair fell over his face and he realised too late that he’d forgotten to put his hair back up into the usual bun and that it was probably all over the place.

“Hold out your hand,” Washington instructed.

“Sir?”

“Now, Alexander.” Upon hearing his full name, it was Alex’s turn to raise an eyebrow. He obeyed, lifting his right arm out in front of him and leaving it stretched out between them. His hand was visibly trembling. Washington sighed.

“Alexander, how much sleep did you get last night?”

“Sir, I really don’t think –“

“Answer the question, son.” Alex studied the pattern on the carpet.

“I – I didn’t, sir.” Washington’s frown deepened and he gestured to the sofa.

“You can’t put your body under this much stress, Hamilton. You’re going to lie down on that sofa and get some rest before you pass out from exhaustion.” Alex’s jaw dropped and he started to laugh as he took a step backwards.

“Thank you for your concern, sir, but really, I’m fine, I have work waiting for me –“ He was interrupted by Washington’s voice. This time, it was clear, determined – a stern tone that demanded obedience.

“ _Lie down_. We both know full well that the gala speech is your most urgent project and since you seem to have stayed up all night writing it, you may as well take the time back now to refresh a little. I can’t have you at work in this state, son. I need your mind sharp.”

Alex broke eye contact again to look at the floor, embarrassed. He bit his lip, glancing once more at his boss, whose cool look was unwavering. Alex sighed and moved towards to sofa. He sat down gingerly, surprised by the softness of the cushions, and glanced back towards Washington. His boss was reading the document once more, not even looking at Alex. The message was clear.

Alex slid off his jacket and shoes, and lay down on the sofa, propping his head up with a cushion. He stared at the ceiling, convinced that sleep would not come for him – he was still uncomfortable about reclining while his boss worked mere metres away, so Alex was sure he wouldn’t sleep. Five minutes later, Washington looked up at the sound of even, steady breaths. Hamilton was fast asleep. The senator huffed a laugh, smiled, and returned to his work.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex blinked blearily as he came to. He groaned as the harsh light hit his eyes, and turned over, covering his face with his arm.

“Ah, Hamilton,” a familiar voice said. “Good, I was about to wake you”.

 _That’s Washington,_ Alex thought, unable to pinpoint exactly why his boss’s voice was calling him. And then he remembered.

Alex sat up suddenly, wincing at the sudden rush of blood to his head, and whipped his head around to see Washington still sat behind his desk, a wry smile on his face. Alex blinked again, carding a hand through his hair and realising that he must have a serious bed-head.

“Sir! What time is it? I’m sorry, I – “ he stammered, digging through his pockets for a hair band. As he swept his hair off his face and into a ponytail, Washington waved a hand.

“It’s half past three.” At the look of sheer horror that appeared on Hamilton’s face, the older man shook his head. “Before you try and apologise, remember that I told you to get some rest, son. You need to take better care of yourself.”

At his boss’ reproachful look, Alex began to feel guilty all over again.

“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again. I know that my abilities are somewhat compromised when I’m running low on sleep, but – “

Washington held up a hand and Alex, for once, fell silent.

“I have a meeting now, but I’ll be back by half four at the latest. We can go through the changes that need to be made to the gala speech then. In the mean time, drink some water – yes, _water,_ Hamilton, not coffee for the love of God – and make yourself useful.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex responded, shrugging on his navy suit jacket.

“Oh, and Hamilton?” Washington stood and made his way towards the door. “Nice socks”.

Alex forced himself not to react as he took in the mismatched socks adorning his feet, one green, one black. _That isn’t embarrassing at all,_ he groans inwardly. _Not only did you literally sleep on Washington’s couch for four whole hours in the middle of the work day, but now he thinks you can’t even dress yourself properly. Great job, Hamilton. Good going._

Washington held open the door and Alex swept through it, cheeks aflame and eyes fixed straight ahead. They headed down the corridor, Alex stopping to enter his office as Washington paused and cleared his throat.

“Hamilton, I don’t want you to make a habit of this, but if you should find yourself in such a state that you are unable to produce your normal quality of work, I would much rather you come to me than give yourself a heart attack by drowning in caffeine. Is that understood?”

Hamilton nodded.

“Understood, sir. See you later,” he said, stepping into his office and closing the door behind him.

*

Two weeks later, Alex found himself unable to concentrate at all on the word document open in front of him. Half an hour of staring at a blank page and yet when he reached for the words which should flow seamlessly out of his mind, there was just the dull ache of tiredness behind his eyes.

At least this time it wasn’t technically his fault. Ever since his childhood, he’d been terrified of storms, and last night a big one had hit. Luckily it had blown over by the time he had to come into work, but Alex had spent the whole night trying to drown out the claps of thunder by blasting music out of his crappy headphones and covering his face with his arms. It brought a sort of comfort, not being able to see the outside world. Still, Alex was tense and exhausted today, and he knew he looked awful. He wondered absently whether he could pull off wearing makeup to hide the bags under his eyes. Maybe not. That stuff was expensive, anyway, and Alex had long been in the habit of cutting out the luxuries just to be certain he could meet his basic needs. It was a behaviour born of necessity which Alex held onto even now, when he knew he technically could afford to spend a little more. Better to know that you could cover yourself if there was an emergency.

Alex’s train of thought continued along this path until a good few minutes later, he yanked himself out of his reverie, irritated. He was here to work, damn it. He could work. Words were his weapons, his tools, and he was a master craftsman, he was Alexander Hamilton, he was...

Ten minutes later he gave up. _So much for master craftsman,_ he thought. He glanced at his watch: 10:24. He’d been down this road enough times to know that at this point, caffeine would only speed up his heart rate and would do nothing to improve his mental capabilities.

Alex took a deep breath, stood up and left his office, heading left down the corridor. He reached the door to Washington’s study, took a breath, and knocked.

_Please say you’re busy, please be in a meeting, please don’t make me ask for –_

“Come in,” came Washington’s voice.

Washington’s desk was covered in paperwork, and the man looked up as Hamilton meekly stepped into the room.

“Hamilton?” Washington prompted. “Do you need something?”

Alex forced himself to meet his boss’ eyes.

“Yes, actually sir. I was wondering if your offer was still open?”

Washington quirked an eyebrow. _Remind me,_ his eyes prompted. Alex coughed.

“The sofa, sir. I – I find myself unable to concentrate this morning”.

Washington’s brow cleared and he nodded slowly.

“Very well, perhaps set an alarm this time so that I don’t have to wake you.”

“Thank you, sir. So sorry for the inconvenience...” Alex trailed off in embarrassment as he programmed an alarm into his phone.

“Alexander,” Washington began, and Alex looked up. “I’m glad that you felt you could come to me. Obviously I would rather you did your sleeping at night like the rest of us,” he smiled, “but as it is, I’m not angry with you, or disappointed. Just,” Washington paused, and seemed to be choosing his words with care. He sighed. “Just get some rest, son. You look exhausted”.

 _Again,_ Alex filled in silently. He sank down once more onto the sofa, kicking off his shoes and lying back on the soft, grey cushions. The echoes of the storm thundering around his mind were soon replaced by the strangely soothing noise of Washington typing at the computer, and eventually Alex dropped off to sleep.

*

That afternoon, Alex was sat back in his office, chewing absentmindedly on a sandwich was he typed on his computer. He was a few pages in so far – this was much better, and Alex knew that this was some good work. Succinct, persuasive, everything that Washington looked for from him. Alex smiled as he finished another paragraph. After all, since Washington had let him nap in his office, the least Alex could do was provide perfection in a word document. Not that Alex was biased or anything.

He looked up at a knock at the door. “Yeah?” he called, swivelling around as Lafayette opened the door.

“Salut, Hammie”, he greeted, “I need to run something by you for one of the press publications. Do you have a moment?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you need,” Alex smiled, gesturing to the empty chair beside his desk. He and Lafayette had bonded when Alex had first joined Washington’s staff over their mutual hatred of what the humidity had done to their hair, and had been friends ever since.

“I meant to catch you earlier, mon ami, but I could not find you!” Lafayette chuckled. “Not hiding from me, Hamilton?”

“Ha, no, I was – in a meeting with Washington” he replied, looking back firmly at his computer and hoping that Laf wouldn’t detect anything unusual in his voice.

“A meeting that lasted three hours?” Lafayette questioned, and Alex just nodded.

“Yep, very important stuff. Top secret. So – what did you want to run by me?”

As his co-worker launched into the pros and cons of a certain style of publication, Alex thought back to how understanding Washington had been. It really went above and beyond what an employee should expect from their boss, Alex mused. He had considered himself lucky since getting this job a year ago, since it allowed him to use his skills in an interesting and influential way. But more than that, he had known since the beginning that George Washington was the kind of man that anyone would be lucky to work for. Sincere, collected, powerful – Alex wasn’t in the least bit surprised that he was such a popular man. And obviously, the fact that he was so handsome helped. The public were often swayed by the most attractive faces, Alex knew. Not that Washington wasn’t a good politician – he was, and Alex was determined to use any sway he had over the senator to push for the changes he wanted to see in the world.

But beyond all of that – beyond the politics and the speeches and the public relations – Alex truly admired his boss. His drive, the way he commanded a room, and that smile when Alex delivered something truly fantastic. That was what made it all worth it. He would gladly skip sleeping if it meant crafting the best possible speeches for Washington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Any comments would be greatly appreciated. Thanks! x


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks so much to everyone who has commented or left kudos so far - one of the reasons I wrote this was that I wanted to be able to communicate with my fellow Whamilton trash (no offence) so the response has been amazing! Also basically I'm too impatient to stick to one chapter per day so it is more likely going to be two, one in the morning and one in the evening English time.
> 
> Warning - Alex has a nightmare and panics in this chapter
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The third time Alex napped in Washington’s office was a month or so later.

He was hunched over in his office chair, typing furiously only to groan in irritation and delete entire lines of text at once. Nothing was working! Alex wasn’t exactly sure when he’d last slept. This time, it hadn’t been his choice – he had lain in bed, restless and tired and yet somehow still unable to sleep. As a result, instead of the usual frantic caffeine-fuelled energy from his sleep-deprived writing sessions, today he was just angry. His elegance and eloquence seemed to have evaporated along with his patience and good humour. Alex had already snapped at Laurens today – and Laurens was the nicest guy in the office. Even Lafayette’s reproachful stare, Mulligan’s disappointed look and the guilt that had swum in his chest hadn’t been enough to make Alex apologise. He would do it later. Right now, he had to finish this speech. This stupid, evil, annoying, horrible...

The list of insults towards his own writings continued to reel through Alex’s mind, and as his irritation rose he felt the familiar thrumming of a headache in his skull. He began to mutter under his breath, trying to vent his annoyance on the empty air of the stuffy little office. Alex was so preoccupied in his frustration that he didn’t realise that someone was standing behind him until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and he flinched, wheeling around to stare in bewilderment at Washington.

“Sir, I didn’t hear you come in, I’m sorry,” he gasped, standing to attention.

Washington looked half-amused, half-reproachful. “That language is hardly appropriate for the workplace, Alexander,” he said, and Alex cringed as he realised just what he had been muttering. _Oops._

“I would speak with you in my office, son. Are you busy?”

“Uh, no, I can come now”. Alex saved the offending document and followed Washington out of his office and down the corridor. As he walked behind his boss, Alex took the opportunity to appreciate just how tall Washington was. His ability to dominate a room came naturally, Alex assumed, but the impressive height must help.

They arrived at Washington’s office and Alex made for the empty office chair, but Washington waved him towards the sofa.

“Take some time out, Alexander. For God’s sake get some sleep.” Alex’s eyes widened – Washington’s tone was gruff and he rarely used such language. Clearly his boss was stressed out. The least he could do was listen to what he was told, so he stooped to remove his shoes and lay down once more on the sofa, hopeful that here, in the calm oasis of Washington’s office, he might be able to get some rest.

*

He was a child again, back home, and the storm was raging. He gasped for breath as he looked around the ravaged house. Everything was destroyed, and the wind was howling, and thunder was booming, and lightning was flashing, and it was too much, too much, he wanted to hide, where could he hide? He was all alone and the storm was all around him.

Suddenly, he saw a figure disappear behind the house. He chased, out into the street, into the storm. His mother! She turned and beckoned to him and he ran to her, desperate for comfort and safety and warmth and shelter from the storm that was still pounding around them, the wind bringing tears to his eyes. As he reached her, he jumped back with a scream – suddenly, she was as pale as death, as pale as she had been when the sickness had taken her and she had left him forever and Alex was screaming, he was screaming, he was-

“Alex!”

He was being shaken awake and he dragged in a lungful of air as he shot upright, reaching out to latch onto the hand on his left shoulder. Eyes wide, breaths short and fast, Alex looked up into the concerned eyes of George Washington.

“Just breathe, son”, the low voice permeated his panic and Alex tried to slow the rise and fall of his chest. He blinked away the tears that had formed at the corners of his eyes and shakily dragged in a deeper breath of air. The scent of what must be Washington’s cologne reached him and Alex let himself be comforted by the fragrance and by the reassuring weight of Washington’s large hands on his shoulders.

“Good. That’s good, Alexander. Just like that. In and out.”

After a few moments, Alex had calmed down enough to realise what had happened. The nightmare. His mother. He swung his legs around to sit properly on the sofa and brought both hands up to hold his head.

“Are you all right, son?” Washington asked, low and gentle and caring. The horrific image of his mother’s corpse flashed into Alex’s head, unbidden, and he scowled. He had lost the only person he considered a parent a long time ago.

“Don’t call me that”, he growled, reaching for his shoes and pulling them on abruptly. “I’m not your son.”

He looked up at Washington, ready to attack, to defend himself against the pity or anger that he knew he would see in his eyes. But Alex didn’t find what he was expecting when he looked up into Washington’s face. No anger, no pity. Just calm and understanding.

It grounded Alex, and brought him back to himself.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean that.” Alex took a deep breath and Washington stepped away as he stood up awkwardly.

“No offense taken, Hamilton”, came the response as Washington turned away and seated himself once more behind the desk. “I’m sorry that you were unable to rest.” Washington studied Alex’s face and the younger man squirmed under the scrutiny. “You can work from home for the rest of the day if you’d prefer?”

And Alex appreciated that, he really did – how many bosses would respond to unfounded rudeness by offering the chance to retreat to a safe space? – but after that little meltdown he was more desperate than ever to prove that he could be a good employee, that he could do his job and he could do it well.

“Thank you, sir, but I’ll head back to my office now,” he replied, and at Washington’s nod of assent, he let himself out of the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Any comments would be greatly appreciated. Thanks! x


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Heed the tags - I have little to no understanding of American politics and for this I apologise!!)

After that embarrassing incident, Alex resolved not to go to Washington again when he didn’t have the energy to perform at his best. If the need arose for him to get some more energy during the work day – and, knowing his sleeping habits, the need would arise – he would simply have to find an alternative. And so, the next few weeks passed without incident. The gala came and went, the speech was a success and Alex shifted his focus onto the next major deadline, all the while completing the smaller tasks that fell to him.

One of those tasks was, as it happened, was to avert major crises before the general was even aware of them.

Alex was packing up his things to go home and had just grabbed his jacket from the hook on the back of the office door when the email pinged through from Lafayette on his mobile:

_Subject: MERDE (!)_

_Read this article. Draft response for GW ASAP. Press conference at 8am to clear things up. Make it good, Hammie._

_L_

There was a link attached, and Hamilton’s eyes widened as he scanned the article that popped up. “ _Senator Washington accused of embezzling government funds”._ Fan-fucking-tastic.

The article was, of course, lacking in any credible facts or figures and consisted mostly of a wild theory which bordered on fantastical, but something tightened in the pit of Alex’s stomach as he read the text more closely. “ _Clear evidence of corruption”; “a stain upon the state of Virginia”; “such a shocking and upsetting turn of events”..._ though unfounded, the article was written persuasively and it had already gained significant attention online.

Alex gritted his teeth as he took off his jacket again and hung it up behind the door. He sat down at the desk, booting up the computer again. He had work to do.

*

Alex emerged from the word document hours later, uncertain how much time had passed exactly but able to tell from his tired eyes and stiff back that it must be at least midnight by now. That hardly mattered – he had successfully kept it going for long enough to draft, re-draft, check and double check a brilliant statement that Washington would use to clear any doubt about his name and protect his reputation tomorrow morning. Or was it already tomorrow?

Alex’s eyes flicked to the clock.

_Shit._

3:59am.

Alex quickly emailed the file to Lafayette, Washington and even Laurens and Mulligan for good measure, sent another copy to the printer and then gave in to the exhaustion threatening to overtake him. If there was one thing Alex knew about public transport, it was that you did not want to be riding it at 4am. He spoke from experience there.

He had tried to sleep in his office in the past – when push came to shove, he could get some sleep on the floor with a jacket bundled under his head – but just as Alex was considering this, an idea popped into his head. Yes, he had told himself that he wouldn’t sleep in front of Washington anymore, but _Washington wasn’t here –_ he wouldn’t be in for hours! Alex could use his sofa for a few hours, use an alarm on his phone to wake himself up before anyone noticed and continue with his day.

It was decided, then. Flipping the lights off in the office, he stumbled down the corridor to Washington’s office. Finding it unlocked, he let himself in, and, without even thinking to remove his shoes, let alone set an alarm, he collapsed on the sofa and fell asleep instantly.

*

George woke up to a flurry of email alerts on his phone. He rubbed his eyes, sat up in bed, and scrolled quickly through. Lafayette, Lafayette, crisis, press release... he scanned through enough of them to understand the gist. This didn’t look good. He was going to have to think very quickly to convince the bloodthirsty reporters that there was nothing true about that article. George sighed and rubbed a hand over his face wearily. He swung his legs out to the side, sitting fully upright now on the edge of the king sized bed.

The most recent email was from Hamilton. George opened it to find – _oh -_ what looked like a very well written response to the accusations against him.  He smiled in relief. Perhaps the press conference would go in his favour after all. Hamilton seemed to have shot down all of the points raised in the article with hard facts and statistical evidence. George silently berated himself for assuming for even a minute that Hamilton wouldn’t have found a way to solve this issue.

Then, something on the email caught his eye. The timestamp – _email sent: 04:00am,_ it read cheerfully. George’s eyebrows rose. Talk about going above and beyond the call of duty. Hamilton’s dedication to his job was certainly admirable, but there came a point when a boss might become concerned for the welfare of an employee. As he dressed himself and generally prepared for the day, George pondered the bright young man who wrote his speeches. In the last year, Hamilton had certainly made an impression. Despite his scruffy – that is to say, _less than formal –_ appearance, Hamilton was a good worker with a keen mind and an eye for detail. He was a valuable asset to the team.

 _But if he keeps burning himself out, we might need to have a frank conversation about his lack of self-preservation skills,_ George thought to himself as he boiled the kettle. He thought back to that first time that Hamilton had napped in his office. The way his hair had flowed over his shoulders, free and wild. How pinched his face had been. The tremor in his fingers.

George certainly didn’t want to overstep his boundaries – particularly not after Hamilton’s evident embarrassment after his nightmare – but he thought a stern chat might be in order.

*

“Alright, I won’t be taking any more questions this morning. Thank you for your time”, George flashed his best smile as he left the small podium that had been set up for the conference. It had gone well, he could tell. The statement had been perfectly crafted, defending George without seeming overly defensive. With a bit of luck, the rumours would be put to bed as soon as these journalists released the contents of the conference.

Breathing out slowly, George slipped the speech back into his briefcase and headed back for the office. As he stepped out of the elevator he was met by a rather harried looking Lafayette.

“Good morning, sir. The conference went well, I take it?” he asked, and Washington smiled genially and set off down the corridor.

“Well enough I believe, Lafayette. Hamilton sent a speech through last night before I even knew what had happened.”

Lafayette fell into step beside him and glanced sideways at the senator.

“Oui, sir, I received it also. You haven’t seen Hamilton this morning, have you?”

Washington paused and turned to look at the Frenchman.

“Has he not come in? That isn’t like him.” Washington checked his watch. 10am. If he wasn’t in the office by now, it probably couldn’t be brushed off as mere lateness. Plus, Hamilton was known to be dedicated to the point of coming into work even when battling a fever. If he wasn’t here this morning, something must be very wrong.

“I will try his mobile again, sir. We’ll track him down.” Lafayette scurried away as Washington nodded his assent. Reaching his office, he entered and sat down heavily behind the desk, starting up the computer. He closed his eyes, rolling his head left and right to try and relieve some of the tension in his neck. Washington forced himself to breathe in and out slowly even as the worry over his prized employee’s whereabouts started to creep into his mind.

 Suddenly, an odd buzzing noise began to emanate from the corner of his office – Washington raised his eyes and almost laughed out loud with relief at what he saw.

Alexander Hamilton, fully dressed in yesterday’s suit, was curled up on his sofa fast asleep.

 At the sound of the buzzing – the vibrations of his phone, George realised – a grumpy pout appeared on his face and he swatted sleepily at his pocket without opening his eyes. George bit his lip and tried to quell the laugh he felt bubbling up through his chest. It was strangely endearing, seeing Alex like this. Of course, he’d seen the man asleep a few times by now but the way he scrunched up his face in distaste at the ringing of his phone – Lafayette, no doubt – made George realise just how young Alexander really was. 26, he seemed to recall. Almost 16 years his junior.

Alex opened his mouth in a yawn and reached into his pocket, bringing out the still-buzzing mobile. As George watched from his desk, the speechwriter jabbed blindly at it, succeeded in silencing the offending noise, and lobbed the phone half way across the room where it bounced on the carpet to land by George’s feet. That done, Alex smiled in satisfaction, rolled over, and began to snore softly.

As his computer whirred and began to load up, George sent Lafayette a quick email on his mobile.

_Subject: Runaway employee_

_No need for concern about Hamilton. I have just found out where he is. Don’t worry, he’s perfectly fine and will be in later._

_G.W._

George knew, rationally, that he should wake Hamilton and send him on his way. But one look at the snoozing man and George also knew that he was going to allow Hamilton to get as much sleep as he could. Goodness knows he always looked like he could do with a few more hours of sleep. And anyway, George decided, he was Alexander’s boss and it was therefore his choice how his employee should spend his time at work. Feeling justified and more than a little pleased with himself, George turned to his work and opened his emails.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The support so far has been incredible - thank you all so much!  
> Also if there are any typos or other errors please do let me know so that I can sort them out.   
> Thanks!  
> Katie x

Alex wrinkled up his face and thrust an arm over his eyes as he slowly came to. He was groggy, blinking confusedly for a few moments before bringing his hands up to rub his face. He squinted, took a deep breath, then opened his eyes properly. It was light, and Alex registered the low hum of a computer somewhere nearby.

Wait.

This wasn’t his bedroom.

Memories of the night before and his 4am decision to sleep in his boss’ office came crashing back into his skull and Alex’s breathing sped up. What time was it by now? He had to leave before Washington could arrive and be disgusted with his presumptuous and frankly unprofessional behaviour! Alex swung his legs to the side of the sofa, holding his pounding head in one hand as the blood rushed to his brain from the movement. With the other hand, he fished around in his pockets, suddenly struggling to fight the panic creeping in to his chest. Where was it? Where was his –

“Looking for this?”

Alex’s head whipped up to see Washington, already sat at his desk, holding out Alex’s phone. Washington had an odd little smile on his face, a look in his eye that Alex hadn’t seen before. Before he could properly process this new information, his brain went into overdrive. His voice was rough from sleep, words spilling from him like a wave.

“Sir, I – oh my god -  I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t intend to intrude or to compromise your work space, please, sir, I -“

“Alex,” Washington said sharply, and Alex fell silent. “Breathe, my boy. Settle down. It’s all right. Relax.”

Alex forced himself to meet Washington’s gaze again and something there calmed the flicker of panic in his chest. His breathing slowed. After a moment, Washington nodded.

“Seeing as you single-handedly averted a wide-scale crisis last night, trust me when I say that I don’t in the least mind you getting some well earned rest here, son,” Washington smiled again, although his smile faltered a little with the last word as he focused sharply on Alex’s face. He seemed pleased by whatever he saw, chuckling as he stood up. Once again, Alex could only marvel at the sheer height of this man. Plus, those bespoke suits really did complement his figure.

“I imagine you need some coffee, my boy. Normally I despise the stuff but I think I can make an exception today.”

Washington crossed the room and handed the phone back to Alex, who received it numbly, switching it on to see the time blinking up at him from the lock screen. 11:30am. An odd sort of noise burst from Alex’s throat as his brain helpfully supplied the calculation. He had slept for seven and a half hours. The last time that had happened must have been... well actually, he wasn’t sure.

Seven and a half hours. No wonder he was feeling groggy.

He looked up slowly at his boss, running a hand over his head and realising that his hair had freed itself from the confines of his ponytail yet again.

As though he could read Alex’s mind, Washington said, “You should wear your hair down more often. It’s rather becoming on you, Alexander.” And then he _winked_ at Alex. Alex blinked dumbly. This was too much for his poor, sleep-addled brain to take in.

He stammered a “right, um, sure,”, and swallowed as Washington huffed that dry, low chuckle once again.

“Sit tight for a bit, Alexander. Check your emails, catch up on things – oh, I told Lafayette that you had an early meeting out of town. I didn’t go into details so you can spin it however you want. Best make it believable though, he’s a smart man,” Washington nodded again, almost to himself this time, and made his way to the door of the office.

Something occurred to Alex just as his boss was reaching for the handle.

“Sir! The article! The press!” he blurted out, eyes snapping up from his phone to meet Washington’s dark gaze again.

Washington smiled a low, satisfied smile, and something about the rumbling of his voice made Alex’s insides feel a bit wobbly as he said “It was very good, Alexander. The press lapped up what you wrote.” And then, “You did very well for me, my boy”.

Alex couldn’t pinpoint exactly why his mouth went dry at this last phrase, but as Washington left the room, he elected to ignore it, and instead buried himself in the numerous emails he had received during the night – morning – whatever. He wondered idly how he would explain the rumpled suit to his co-workers as he began tapping at the keyboard, composing some story or other for Lafayette’s benefit. One thought entered his brain, unbidden, and he hurried to silence it.

 _There are worse things to wake up to than George Washington,_ his traitorous brain whispered. Alex rolled his eyes at himself, mentally pulled himself together, and pulled up the day’s schedule on his phone.

*

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. After drinking the coffee that Washington had pressed into his hands, Alex had started to feel a little more human, and had excused himself to return to his desk and get to work for the day. Washington had nodded, smiled that odd little smile again, and Alex had fled without another word.

Alex had barely turned on his own computer when Lafayette burst into his office.

“Mon ami, where have you been?” he asked, exasperated but still smiling as he shook his head reproachfully at his colleague. “This email that you have sent me, about a –how did you say – “hospital mishap”? I was worried, Hammie!” His tone was light and jovial but Alexander still felt a twist of guilt in his stomach.

“Sorry, Laf. Yeah, an old girlfriend still had me saved as her emergency contact number. She got in an accident last night – she’s totally fine though, no one was really hurt, just a little banged up, but she doesn’t live in the area anymore so I had to go out of town...”

 _You’re rambling, Alex,_ a little voice whispered in his head. _Shut up!_

To his credit, Lafayette just raised an eyebrow. “In this case, I am happy that she is unharmed and that you are back where you belong, _petit lion._ ” Alex didn’t bother to roll his eyes at the nickname, instead flashing a smile at Lafayette as he logged into the computer.

“Yep, everything is fine. So, how was the press release? What has the response been like? Tell me everything.”

And with that, the normal work routine started up again and Alex allowed himself to forget that odd moment with Washington, diverting his attention to the tasks at hand instead. The hours passed, somehow seeming even faster than normal – _is this what it’s like to get seven and a half hours of sleep?_ he wondered after finishing his fourth extended essay within five hours – and eventually it was six o’clock, and the normal noises of the office had begun to quieten as people left for the night. Alex grabbed his jacket, slung his satchel over his shoulder, and headed for the stairs.

As he approached the top of the stairs, Alex heard heavy footfalls behind him and turned to see Washington coming down the corridor towards him, briefcase in hand. Washington smiled as he saw Alex, and if Alex’s heart started to beat a little faster at that perfect smile then he wasn’t going to acknowledge it.

Washington caught up with him and they began to walk down the stairs together, Alex only just struggling to keep up.

“I’m glad to see that you’re actually going home tonight, son,” Washington joked, and Alex glanced up to his face to see mirth sparkling in those dark eyes. “I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable in your own bed.”

“Quite, sir,” Alex agreed, breaking eye contact in favour of pretending to adjust his jacket. “Although I must admit, that sofa is probably more comfortable than my bed.”

He’d been aiming at humour but had obviously missed the mark since Washington’s brows furrowed in response. Alex, puzzled, repeated the statement again in his mind, trying to discern to cause of the offence. He backtracked, “Not that I think that what I did this morning – breaking in to your office and all – was appropriate, sir, I know that what I did was–“

“No, no, Hamilton,” Washington waved a hand in a shushing motion. “You know I’m not concerned about that. I only frowned because you suggested that your bed is uncomfortable. Forgive me for asking a...personal question, son, but in truth I’m beginning to get concerned. Is that why you starve yourself of sleep?”

Alex swallowed. He supposed that, after using Washington’s office as if it were his own bedroom, his boss deserved an honest answer. As if Alex could have brought himself to be anything but truthful when those piercing eyes were studying him.

“Well, sir, mostly I just forget.” Seeing Washington raise one eyebrow, Alex sighed. One more flight of stairs to go. “I get...caught up in some project, in a speech or an essay or research, and I don’t even notice the time passing. Most of the time I don’t mean to skip sleep, I guess I...” he trailed off here, struggling to find the right balance between not divulging too much but still providing an acceptable answer. He ran a hand over his hair.

“I’m not very good at taking care of myself. Just don’t seem to have those survival instincts, you know?” He laughed bitterly. “Wreaks havoc on my relationships, too. No one likes needing to tell a grown man when it’s bedtime.”

An image of Eliza popped into his brain, and he tried to dismiss it but couldn’t help the slight slump of his shoulders as their break-up replayed yet again in his brain.

_I’m sorry Alex, I do love you, but this is exhausting._

Her beautiful face, eyes brimming with tears she wouldn't allow herself to shed in front of him.

_I can’t handle this anymore. You’re always working, and it’s just too much for me._

All the things that had made their way into his apartment methodically collected up again and carried away in a plastic bag.

_Goodbye, Alexander. Please try to take care of yourself._

That was almost a full year ago now, and he still hadn’t recovered from the loss. He had loved her, a pure and strong love, and even so he hadn’t managed to make her _feel_ loved. His constant need to make a mark on the world, to make a difference, to be _useful..._ eventually the late nights and early mornings and the constant writing on his phone, in notepads, on post-it notes peppered all over the walls of his apartment had been too much for her. _And who on earth could blame her?_ Alex thought, not for the first time. _She always deserved so much better._

Alex suddenly realised that he and Washington had reached the bottom of the stairs some time ago, and he had frozen at the entrance to the building. Washington was considering him, head tilted slightly to one side, that frown still etched onto his face.

_Did he say something to me, or is he only staring because I suddenly stopped walking?_

Alex flushed a little under the scrutiny as he tried to figure out how to break the moment. As he was about to open his mouth, Washington spoke, quietly but firmly.

“I don’t know where you went just now, Alexander, and I’m not going to ask. But you should know that there is no shame in asking others for help.” Washington paused, and looked to be deciding whether or not to continue. After a moment, he spoke again. His voice was low, his tone sincere, and he looked directly into Alex’s eyes as he spoke.

“You are not a burden, Alex.”

With horror, Alex felt tears well up in his eyes – _oh my god I am NOT crying in front of Washington. I am not. I am n– oh shit I am okay this is bad ABORT._

Alex broke eye contact, muttered a strangled “Have a good evening, sir”, and all but fled from Washington’s side, pushing his way through the revolving door and hurrying down the street without looking back.

Later, he would try and blame it on the shock of waking up in an unfamiliar place that morning, or on his musings about Eliza, but deep down, Alex knew why those god-forsaken tears had sprung to his eyes. It was the look of total and utter understanding in Washington’s dark eyes as he addressed Alex’s very worst insecurity. How had Washington known? Was he that transparent? When things had broken down with Eliza, Alex was left detesting that part of himself that constantly put his physical needs aside in order to just finish one more sentence, one more paragraph, one more page. Washington’s gentle understanding had been too much, perfectly yet painfully fulfilling Alex’s need for constant validation. He hadn’t cried in a very long time, but once he let himself in to the dark little apartment, Alex sat at the foot of his bed and let the tears flow.

Damn Washington and his ability to read Alex like an open book. Damn his expressive eyes and his reassuring, unassuming air. Damn it all.


	6. Chapter 6

If Alex was a little quiet at work the next morning, no one mentioned it. Alex was pretty sure he’d seen a flicker of concern across Laurens’ freckled face as he’d greeted him that morning, but Alex just forced a strained smile and hoped no one would bring up the slight redness around his eyes. Instead of heading for the coffee machine in the office kitchen like normal, Alex walked straight into his office, closed the door firmly behind him, and sat down behind the desk. As he started up his computer, he breathed in and out evenly. He had work to do.

The weirdly intense exchange with Washington the night before played on the edges of his mind but he blocked it out, bringing up a fresh word document on the screen and leaning forwards in his chair. He was on track for the next big deadline, and when he was worked up like this, Alex knew from experience that it was best to get the words out before he exploded at a co-worker or got into a twitter feud. It had been a while since he’d vented about Puerto Rico, so Alex named the document “99 Problems And America Could Solve A Fair Few Of Them If We Got Off Our Asses”, cracked his knuckles, and set to work.

*

By the time he was satisfied – or, temporarily satisfied – Alex looked up at the clock to realise that he had effectively missed lunch. Technically, he was meant to take a break between one and two o’clock, but usually he brought a sandwich from home and ate at his desk. This morning, distracted by the awkwardness that would be waiting for him at work, Alex had forgotten.

The clock ticked. His stomach rumbled. Conceding defeat, Alex saved the document (now renamed “Puerto Rican Debt Crisis: Summary & Suggestions”) and got to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. There was a decent enough sandwich shop just down the street. Plus, everyone knew that Alex worked unconventional hours. He wasn’t about to get in trouble for taking his lunch a little late.

On his way towards the elevator – he was avoiding the stairs today – Alex heard a familiar voice call  “Hamilton!” and turned, suddenly nervous. But Washington, striding towards him with the usual confident steps, gave no hint that his employee had basically had an emotional breakdown in front of him the night before. Instead, once he had caught up to Alex, Washington smiled blandly, said “Nice weather for the season, isn’t it, Hamilton?”

Alex blinked, uncertain.

“Um...yes, sir. Very nice”.

Washington smiled more widely, reached down to pat Alex twice on the shoulder, then walked off.

Alex watched him go, bemused. A moment later, the implicit meaning of that odd little conversation hit him. It was an ‘everything is fine, we don’t ever need to talk about what happened yesterday again’. Alex exhaled in relief. Okay, so he had embarrassed himself ( _again)_ but if Washington was going to ignore it, then Alex could ignore it. He nodded to himself, then realised that he was standing in an empty corridor nodding his head up and down and quickly stilled the movement, turning away from the lift and towards the stairs instead to head to the sandwich shop.

*

Two weeks came and went. Autumn withered into a frosty winter, and Alex was more reliant than ever on his cups of coffee to give him a boost as well as to warm his fingers. The atmosphere in the office was that of people trying very, very hard to remain cheerful despite the bleak weather that plagued the city. The howling wind had woken Alex a few nights in a row now, and he had never been able to get back to sleep when the weather was bad. On the plus side, he was ahead of schedule on the latest projects, and Washington had even sent him an email congratulating him on “achieving just the right tone” in his most recent ones. Even whilst he feigned annoyance at the implication that he didn’t always get the tone right in his speeches – he was _Alexander Hamilton, words were his weapons, his tools –_ Alex couldn’t deny the flush of pleasure at the praise. The downside to the pitiful amounts of sleep he was getting was apparently that his immune system had given up.

It was Wednesday morning when Alex woke up shivering at 3am, starting in fright as the wind rattled the tiny windows of the apartment. He felt shaky and weak, a headache thrumming against his skull. He leaned over and flicked on the light, sliding out of bed in search of blankets. But no matter how many blankets he piled on, Alex couldn’t seem to get warm. Scrunching up his face in annoyance – honestly, as if he had time to get a cold right now – he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.

Hmm.

So he was a little...temperate.

Alex, now huddled under the pile of emergency blankets he kept in the cupboard, smiled aggressively into the darkness of the room. He was _so_ fine. Absolutely fine. He was a paragon of health.

The paragon of health started to cough.

Even as his headache worsened, Alex resolved not to let whatever this was get in the way of his work. Alex hadn’t taken a sick day in years and it would take more than a slight chill to keep him from the office and from making Washington proud of him.

Alex frowned at his own wording. _Pleased with my work,_ he corrected himself. _I want my boss to be pleased with the quality of my work._

With that thought, Alex reached across to grab his laptop from his bedside table, dragged it under the mountain of blankets with him and got to work editing his newest document on gun control. If his fingers didn’t skid across the keys quite as quickly as normal, Alex ignored it. He also decided to ignore the continuously worsening headache and how he was suddenly sweaty and disgusting despite still feeling uncomfortably cold. _Paragon of health,_ he repeated sternly _._

*

Alex got into work early so as to avoid the concerned looks and pitying glances he knew his co-workers would shoot in his direction. He had purposefully not looked in the mirror before leaving his apartment, just tugged his hair into a bun and hoped he didn’t look noticeably ill. Alex made it into his office and collapsed into the chair, huddling into his too-thin jacket as he turned on the computer. He didn’t have the normal amount of emails waiting for him in his inbox – they would likely start arriving in forty minutes or so when the rest of the world turned on their laptops and began the working day. Alex inserted his pen drive into the computer – it took two tries due to his shaking hands – and opened up the document on gun control that he’d been working on for the last few hours. As he re-read what he’d written at home, Alex felt himself colour with frustration at his own mistakes.

Alexander Hamilton never made typos. He never wrote sentences that weren’t grammatically flawless. And yet, as he scanned through the result of three hours of work, the numerous sentences he found which Alex would have mocked had they been written by anyone else drove him into a foul mood. Upon finding the fifth mistake in a single paragraph, Alex made a noise of irritation not altogether dissimilar from a growl, and immediately regretted it as his scratchy throat burned and he started to cough once more. Once the coughing had died down, he took a quick breath in through his nose, paused, and released the air in a sigh, deflating slightly. He propped his elbows on his desk and let his aching head fall into his hands.

 _Deep breaths, in and out,_ he told himself. _That’s it, just breathe in and out._

It took Alex a moment to realise that the voice in his head sounded exceedingly similar to that of one George Washington. This realisation hit Alex at a vulnerable moment, and he simply sat for a moment mulling it over. The first coherent sentence he formed was: _I like being taken care of._

The next seemed like an obvious development: _I like it being taken care of by Washington._

It was the third thought that hit Alex like a train and he widened his eyes as he finally admitted to himself what he had somehow known for a good few weeks now.

_I like Washington._

Alex sat, frozen by this new piece of knowledge, until a violent shiver broke his concentration and he curled in on himself, gritting his teeth together to stop them from chattering. He could deal with that issue later. For now, he had a document full of typos and half-senseless sentences to work through.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my fave chapters - hope you enjoy it!  
> Katie x

Due to some miracle, no one came knocking on his door all morning, and so Alex remained cocooned in his jacket, unable to hide his shivers as he stubbornly kept typing.

He had given up on the gun control document a while ago, and was now writing something that was either about abortion or carbon emissions. The fact that he couldn’t quite remember which was probably not a good sign, but Alex shook off the nagging voice in his head telling him to listen to his body and instead began a new paragraph.

 _Furthermore,_ he typed, _it is imperative to consider the potential repercussions of any decisions made on this topic. The choice of the woman is, of course, a fundamental way in which we should all behave in order to lower carbon emission output and reduce our damage to this beautiful planet._

Alex nodded to himself as he typed the full stop with a satisfied click of the key. He couldn’t quite remember what the sentence had said, but he was sure it had been eloquent.

 _Eloquent is a good word,_ he thought. _Eloquent... elegant...elephant..._

He giggled as the image of a ballet-dancing elephant popped into his head. Maybe he should write about saving the elephants next. Or about the importance of dance for modern society?

Alex was still giggling to himself as a knock sounded at the door and it opened before he could answer. He knew, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, that he should turn around and greet whoever had just walked into his office, but this thought was chased out of his mind by a throb of pain drilling into his skull.

A voice spoke from behind his back, low and amused.

“What has got you in such a good mood, Hamilton?” Washington asked, and Alex finally stopped giggling.

 _It’s the boss,_ he told himself in his mind. _Turn around, Hamilton. Turn around and say something polite._

He swung around on the swivel chair, or at least he tried to, but he overshot it and sent himself crashing into the side of to desk. He grunted in pain and felt the world tilt a little before large, soft hands were holding his shoulders and he was righted again.

 _He doesn’t look amused anymore,_ Alex thought as he stared owlishly into Washington’s face. _Oh dear. I did something wrong._

“Whatever it was, sir,” Alex said, his own voice sounding oddly far away. “I offer my profuse apologies. The profustest. The profustiest. The – the –“ he trailed off, pouting as he struggled to make the words he wanted obey him.

He felt a hand on his forehead and heard a quiet – “shit!” – from above him. Alex would have gasped at this – he had never heard Washington swear, he was pretty sure that no-one on this entire planet had heard Washington swear – but his body chose that moment to shiver again and so, for once, he remained quiet.

Suddenly, Washington was kneeling on the floor in front of Alex and in his confused state he wondered if he had missed something very, very important. But then, Washington began to speak, and even as he struggled to follow all of the words, Alex understood the tone. He eventually managed to tune in.

“-listening to me? Alex, you’re burning up and I’m going to call a doctor, okay? I know a very reliable one who could –“

But Alex was shaking his head now, eyes wide in horror. “No!” he blurted out. “No! No doctors, please, please sir, no doctors, I don’t want – “

“Shh, Alex, okay, calm down”, Washington placated, those long fingers spread out in a consoling gesture. “No doctors. It’s all going to be alright, son, just –“ Washington sucked in a breath, and for once uncertainty and worry danced across his face.

He paused for a minute, then pulled out a phone and punched in a number. “Lafayette? Come to Hamilton’s office now, please.” He halted for a second listening, before snapping “I don’t care about that, get here now!” and hanging up viciously.

Alex, dazed and still shivering, thought that he might have been quite offended if Washington ever spoke to him like that.

He heard a sad little chuckle from Washington. “Don’t worry, Alex, I’ll be sure to apologise to Lafayette just as soon as your temperature drops again”.

Alex hadn’t realised he’d been speaking out loud. _That is almost definitely not a very good sign,_ he thought.

“Can you describe how you’re feeling, my boy?” Washington’s voice was insistent and Alex wanted so badly to answer him well. He wanted to erase that frown and have Washington smile and be proud of him again.

“I feel just fine, sir,” he rasped, sliding what he hoped was a winning smile onto his face. “Totally, completely, one hundred percent – “ he broke off as another violent shiver wracked his body. He flicked his eyes up to Washington’s face. He wasn’t smiling. Well, damn.

“You’re sick, Alex.” Hard lines creased Washington’s forehead and his voice was tight.  “What are you even doing at work? No, don’t answer that, my boy, you just hang on and hopefully our resident Frenchman will arrive soon and – oh, thank goodness.”

The office door opened and an out of breath Lafayette appeared. His eyebrows shot skywards as he took in the scene in front of him, Washington still kneeling on the floor and supporting Alex’s body with both hands on his shoulders.

“Lafayette, good. You have some medical training, don’t you? Hamilton has a high temperature, seems delirious, and he won’t stop shivering, but when I told him to see a doctor –“

“No doctors! You promised no doctors!” Alex yelped, betrayal crossing his face before Washington shushed him once more.

“That’s right Alex, no doctors, just you, me, and Lafayette here. We’re just having a little meeting in your office, isn’t that right, Lafayette?”

Lafayette had crossed the room now and was feeling Alex’s forehead for himself.

“It is high, sir, but I do not think it is dangerous yet. If he refuses to be treated professionally, I would suggest that the best thing for now is for him to drink lots of water and get some rest somewhere quiet.”

Alex interjected. “Hi, Laf. Laffy-boy. The Lafster. Laffaroo”.

Washington and Lafayette exchanged looks.

“That would be a side effect of the exhaustion, I believe, sir,” the newly-dubbed Lafster said. “I’m sure you have noticed that our Alexander doesn’t always get the right amount of sleep.”

“I had noticed that actually,” Washington replied evenly. “Well, if we can get him to my office he can rest on the sofa there. It isn’t too far – Alex, are you okay to walk?”

Alex, surprised at being addressed, replied only by tilting his head to the side and mumbling “huh?”

Washington pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand in what looked like an attempt to alleviate stress before removing the other hand from Alex’s shoulder to stand up again. Alex began to pitch forwards but Lafayette was there waiting and pinned him back into his seat. Soon, Alex was flanked by the other two men and each took one of his arms, propelling him out of his chair. Alex made a strangled noise of surprise and leaned heavily on Washington as Lafayette opened the office door. Most of the members of staff were out of the office for lunch, and so the trio didn’t encounter anyone on the way down the corridor to Washington’s office. Alex took the opportunity to indulge himself, breathing in Washington’s scent as he was half guided, half dragged down the corridor. He spaced out for a while, and when he came back to reality he was once again lying on the grey sofa, a pillow behind his head.

Alex yawned and rubbed a hand over his forehead, the pulled a face at the moisture he found there. Yuck, he was sweating again. Gross. He hoped Washington hadn’t noticed that.

Speaking of his boss, Alex heard the low rumbling of his voice and peered around to see him instructing Lafayette.

“-pharmacy just down the road, you know what to get I’m sure. I’ll get some fluids in him. Do you know who we could call to come and pick him up? A relative or girlfriend or-?”

A sigh. “None that I know of, sir. His parents are no longer in the picture, and if he has any siblings he has never mentioned them. No girlfriend or boyfriend either”.

Alex shivered and pulled his jacket closer around him.

“Very well. Off to the pharmacy now, if you please. Be quick.”

Footsteps, and then the gentle _snick_ of the door closing. More footsteps, and then a voice.

“Alex, you need to drink some water. Can you look at me?”

Alex blinked, suddenly feeling very groggy, but managed to hold Washington’s gaze.

“Good boy. You need to sit up now, son. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, sir,” he rasped, then swallowed and tried to manoeuvre his torso. Everything felt heavy and uncoordinated, but eventually he pushed himself into an upright position.

“Very good, Alex, you’re doing so well,” came Washington’s voice, and Alex smiled vaguely at the praise. “You need to drink now, alright? Drink this, my boy.”

A bottle pressed at his lips and Alex opened his mouth obediently, sucking at the bottle. He swallowed the water down until the bottle was removed again and he heaved some breaths.

“Perfect, Alex, you’re being so good for me. Just a little more now.”

The bottle returned and Alex brought up his hands to grasp it, finishing the water before holding it out for Washington to take. A droplet of water ran down to his chin and he swept his tongue out to catch it. He heard Washington’s breath hitch. When he spoke, his voice sounded strained.

“Good, Alex. You can lie down again now.”

Alex hummed in response and slipped back down into a horizontal position. As he closed his eyes, he felt a hand running through his hair and smiled. The hand was gentle and it felt soothing. The sensation calmed him, and soon Alex felt himself drifting off to sleep.

*

When Alex next woke up, it was to Washington’s insistent voice and strong hands shaking him gently. He scrunched up his face and the hands stilled, lingering on his shoulders.

Alex sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. He was lucid enough to know that he had embarrassed himself again, but not quite lucid enough to remember how. He yawned and forced himself to look up into Washington’s face.

“Sir? What happened?”

At this, Washington’s frown increased. “You don’t remember?”

Alex thought back. His head hurt and his tiredness had finally caught up with him, so thinking was difficult. Piece by piece, memories of his feverish morning returned to him.

_Laffaroo??? Really Alex??? You really outdid yourself this time._

He was brought back from his reverie by a hand stroking through his hair, and he nuzzled his face into it sleepily. Then, Alex’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at Washington, who looked just as frozen as he was.

“Um” Alex said eloquently.

Washington started to pull his hand away, saying “Apologies, Hamilton, I wasn’t thinking,” but Alex grabbed his wrist and they stayed there for a moment, neither truly wanting to move.

“Please,” Alex whispered. Washington visibly swallowed, and returned his hand to pet Alex’s hair, weaving his fingers reverently through the strands. Alex knew, objectively, that his hair was probably in need of a wash and there were almost certainly tangles. But with those gentle hands teasing through his hair, Alex felt more relaxed and more cared for than he had for quite a while. He was nearly dropping off to sleep again when the hand stilled, then retreated.

Washington stood up abruptly and moved across the room, clearing his throat brusquely.

“There was a reason I woke you up, son. Lafayette brought you some medicine. This should help with the fever.”

He reached into a plastic bag on the desk and brought out a bottle of green liquid. It looked toxic. But as Washington brought it over to him and poured the dose into the cap saying “drink this”, it didn’t cross Alex’s mind to refuse. He obediently accepted the cap and downed the contents in one, wincing as it burned his throat. He swallowed then looked back at Washington. He had removed his jacket and loosened his tie, looking far from his usual put-together self.

“I’m sorry to be such an inconvenience, sir”, Alex said in a very small voice. The look Washington gave him made Alex feel chastised and accepted all at once.

“I have told you before, Alexander. You are not a burden.”

Alex nodded sleepily, unable to formulate any other response.

He closed his eyes and listened to Washington’s breathing.

Alex heard a quiet “Sleep now, my boy”, and, humming his consent, obeyed.


	8. Chapter 8

The clacking of a keyboard. The buzzing of a light. The rustling of paper. Alex opened his eyes, relieved to find that the brightness of the room didn’t cause a headache to pound through his skull. He felt a little cold and quite thirsty, but nowhere near the shivering wreck he’d been earlier. He rolled onto his side and Washington looked up from the file in front of him.

“Hi,” Alex said. Washington smiled a little.

“Hi,” he replied. “How are you feeling?”

Alex stretched, testing out his muscles.

“Better,” he responded, scooting backwards and sitting up against the arm of the sofa. “How long was I out?”

“Nine hours”. It was said too casually, Washington not quite meeting his gaze.

“Nine?” Alex repeated incredulously, swinging his legs to the floor and struggling to his feet. “Wait – what time is it then?”

Washington checked his wristwatch. “Just gone ten o’clock. You needn’t look so shocked, Alexander. I had work to do anyway and you were finally getting some rest so I let you be.”

Alex leaned back, supporting himself on the arm of the sofa as he got his bearings. He supposed that Washington’s logic was sound, and he couldn’t argue with the fact that he felt refreshed and much better than he had that morning.

Still, though. It was disconcerting to have missed the whole day.

He cleared his throat. “Sir, I should say – thank you for, you know, “ he gestured vaguely with his hands. “Taking care of me.”

Washington rested his chin on his hands, regarding Alex as one might a particularly vexing piece of art.

“Of course, Alex. But, son-“ here his tone became stern – “you must be more careful. Why you decided that coming in to work was a good idea with that high of a temperature...” Washington shook his head, straightening up in his chair. “Someone as smart as you should know not to do things that stupid.”

Alex flushed, suddenly feeling very small and hyperaware of his own body. He swallowed, trying in vain to ease the lump that had appeared in his throat.

“Yes sir,” he said quietly. Washington sighed.

“I don’t mean to scold you, my boy. You just gave us all a bit of a scare. Lafayette was in quite a state.”

Alex narrowed his eyes at this. From the flashes of memory he retained from the little escapade earlier in the day, Lafayette had been the calm and collected voice of reason.

“Lafayette was...panicked?” He asked.

“ _Lafayette_ was scared, son.” Washington responded, placing extra emphasis on the first word as if that would convince either of them that they were really discussing the Frenchman. “And he would prefer it if you didn’t put him through that again.” He raised an eyebrow at Alex, who only nodded, dropping his gaze to the ground.

“I’ll try, sir.”

A ping interrupted the quiet of the office, and Alex pulled his phone out of his pocket to scan the email that had just arrived. He frowned as he took in the time again, then pocketed his phone and looked back to Washington.

“I’d better get going, sir. The metro can be a bit uncomfortable when it gets late. The last time I rode it this late, someone tried to swap me an origami paper boat in exchange for my left shoe.”

“The metro?” This time it’s Washington’s turn to frown. “No, Alex, I’m the one who kept you here late. I’ll drive you home.”

Alex smiled at this, but shook his head. “Really, sir, it’s fine. I’m used to it, honestly. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turned to leave, but the sound of Washington’s chair being pushed back stopped him before he could turn the door handle.

Washington closed the space between them and placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“Please, Alex. It would give me peace of mind. Let me drive you home.”

Alex turned his head to look into Washington’s eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Okay,” Alex said, and he wasn’t exactly sure why it came out as a whisper.

They swung by Alex’s office to pick up his things and Washington moved the computer mouse to log off the computer. The last document that Alex was writing was still there. Washington read it, eyebrows steadily climbing.

“Alex,” he said, and Alex looked up from where he was packing his things into his satchel. “You’re taking tomorrow off. That’s an order.”

Alex protested weakly, “no, sir, I feel much better now, I’ll even go straight to sleep when I go home, but please – I can come in tomorrow, I can be useful, I have to b–“

Washington silenced him with a look. Alex huffed a sigh. “I’ll work from home,” he muttered, but he couldn’t be truly angry when he saw the slow satisfaction spreading across his boss’s face.

The ride home was uneventful. The two sat quietly, Alex silently marvelling at the unmarked black leather seats of Washington’s car. He wasn’t sure what make it was - Alex had never been that into cars - but he could tell that this one was probably very expensive. Sleek, dark, and stylish. It suited Washington very well.

As they approached Alex’s neighbourhood, he started to feel uncomfortable. This car didn’t fit in here. The cars here were banged up old things that had to be coerced and at times sworn at before they would start up every morning. They were second hand, shabby. Washington’s car was elegant, purring as he drove through the quiet streets. Alex’s gaze landed on Washington’s fingers, gripping the steering wheel firmly. _Those fingers,_ he thought, and suddenly he felt too hot and flustered. He quickly averted his eyes. The car drove on.

“This is it, just on the left,” Alex said a few minutes later, and Washington pulled the car over to the side of the road. Alex undid his seatbelt and reached down to grab his satchel.

“Thanks again for the lift, sir,” he managed, trying very hard not to let his mind wander again to how those fingers felt tangled in his hair, how they might feel elsewhere on his body – _shit._

Suddenly, there was a weight on his thigh. Those long fingers had come to rest on Alex’s leg in what he assumed was meant as a comforting gesture but actually sent his heart into a fervent drumbeat. Alex looked up sharply to see Washington looking back at him, calm and collected as ever.

“How many times do I have to tell you, my boy?” Washington smiled sadly. “Someone like you deserves to be taken care of. You just need to try and take care of yourself, too.”

Alex paused, trying to ignore his pounding heart and the fact that _Washington’s hand was on his leg._

“Someone like me?”

Washington regarded him seriously, and Alex felt trapped in those deep brown eyes.

“Someone bright, young, handsome – “ suddenly Washington’s eyes widened and he removed his hand jerkily, moving back to his own seat. Alex missed the contact instantly and felt his own eyes widen at what Washington let slip. _Did he just -_

“That is to say, I mean, _ahem,”_ Washington cleared his throat though his voice sounded no less gruff when he spoke again, rushing through his words. “Someone with his life ahead of him and – and – good prospects, in a professional manner of speaking.”

He nodded, seeming to have recovered from his brief panic. “You’re going places, Alexander.”

Alex’s heart was still racing too fact to truly appreciate the praise that Washington was giving him. Any other day this would have been enough to make him grin from ear to ear but tonight all Alex could think about was the warm weight of that hand and the fact that Washington thought him handsome.

They both paused, and Alex was the first to look away, face flushed. Then Washington spoke again, this time decisive and clear, no hint of the earlier gruffness to his voice.

“But right now, son, the only place you’re going is to bed. Do I make myself clear?”

Alex opened the car door and clambered out.

“Yes sir,” he said faintly, and, slightly dazed, he made his way into the building.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I am so so grateful for everyone who takes the time to leave a kudos or a comment so thanks to everyone who has so far! Your messages all really do make my day! 
> 
> This chapter is a little less..fun... (sorry!)
> 
> I'm going to put a warning here that Alex has some form of panic attack in this chapter. I personally have never experienced one and so I'm sorry for any inaccuracies resulting from that. 
> 
> Katie  
> x

The dreams began not long after that. Alex often had vivid dreams – even in sleep he couldn’t escape the fast-paced non-stop explosion that was his life. But these dreams were new, and unlike his regular nightmares, they were not entirely unwelcome.

_Washington backing Alex into a corner of his office as he wet his lips with his tongue._

_Washington tugging Alex’s hair free from his ponytail._

_Washington biting at his jaw, licking and sucking and nipping and –_

-and Alex woke up, hard and panting and very much alone in his bed. It was Monday morning, a few weeks after what he had dubbed The Fever Incident™, and Alex groaned as he realised that he’d had the same dream yet again.

He had gotten the distinct feeling that Washington had been trying to distance himself since their car journey together. He was still perfectly civil and polite, but had taken to calling Alex only by his surname again. Every time he heard that low, melodious voice calling “Hamilton,” Alex’s heart jumped. And every time, Washington would deliver the instruction, smile politely, then walk away. It was driving Alex mad.

But what could he do? Washington was obviously regretting his behaviour that night, regretting the brief moment of intimacy between them. _And that is fine,_ Alex told himself firmly. _That is so fine. Totally, completely, one hundred percent –_

Ok, so it wasn’t fine. But Alex had dealt with worse things than an unrequited crush in the past and if he just put his mind to it, he could certainly get over this. (He hoped.)

Alex pulled himself out of bed, dragging his feet as he made his way into the shower. Twenty minutes later he stumbled back to his room, dressed himself, then brewed some coffee in the small kitchen.

He went about his daily routine, and it wasn’t until he was on the metro that he realised with a grimace that he had forgotten his headphones. That was a bad omen. It wasn’t that his day was _ruined_ by the fact that he couldn’t listen to his music, but it certainly didn’t bode well for his mood for the rest of the day.

It was raining hard as Alex emerged onto the streets and he ran the rest of the way to work, trying to ignore the rising winds surrounding him. He was only a block away from his building when the thunder crashed, but it could have been twenty miles. He froze and sucked in a breath, eyes wide. His hair was plastered to his skull with the inundation of rain water, and as he stood stock still on the pavement he began to shiver. His breaths were quick and shallow and he could feel the dark tint of panic beginning to cloud the edges of his mind. _He was in a storm. He was in a storm. He was in a –_

Alex struggled to slow his erratic breathing and eventually regained enough control to begin an awkward, jerky shuffle. He had made it about ten paces down the street when lightning flashed somewhere behind him. He began to cry, fear and horror and the tight grip of panic rendering him unable to control his own body. The tears mingled with the rain water on his face.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Alex closed his eyes. The streets were mainly deserted now, with everyone scurrying to find shelter from the sudden storm. No one threw a spare glance at the man standing on the side of the road drenched from head to foot. Slowly, uncertainly, Alex moved his right foot forwards. He concentrated hard on this. Next was his left foot. His legs felt stiff and uncooperative, like ice and jelly at the same time. Right foot. Left foot. Slowly, slowly, he made his way down the street. Another blast of thunder made him freeze again, but eventually Alex found himself in the lobby of his building, gasping for breath. He didn't know how long it had taken him to get inside. He didn't want to know. On the contrary, Alex wanted to forget that this morning had happened and to go home and get under his duvet and slip into sleep and never ever wake up again. But to go home he would have to go outside. Alex took one deep breath and walked to the elevator, holding tightly to the hand rail as it transported him upwards.

Alex took his phone out of his pocket – he would have grimaced to see it so covered in water but at this point in time he didn’t particularly care – and pressed it to his ear. The gold doors opened and Alex’s floor came into view. _Showtime,_ he thought.

“Yes, I completely see your point,” Alex said into the phone as he made his way across the open space towards his office. The phone didn’t reply.

“That’s right,” Alex continued, waving a hand at Laurens without looking him in the eye, “Two months ago. That’s the one.”

Lafayette emerged from the kitchen and zeroed in on Alex, probably horrified by how utterly drenched he was. Alex studiously avoided looking at him, too aware that his face would give him away – Lafayette could read him like a book – instead responding loudly to his fictional caller.

“That is certainly the way to do it,” he said, even nodding his head for effect. He was nearing his office now. Not long to go.

“Well, we can continue going through this now if you prefer – I won’t be disturbed in my office all morning so I have the time to go through the whole thing now if you do?”

A pause. He had reached the door.

“Excellent. Alright, so about that statement...”

And he was inside. Alex shut the door behind him with an audible click and threw the phone down on the desk. He had just won himself a morning of privacy if the others had picked up on what he’d been implying, and Washington’s staff was nothing if not attentive.

He breathed a shuddering sigh, chucked his jacket on the floor and, after a moment of consideration, kicked off his waterlogged shoes. He wrenched his tie from his neck in an attempt to ease his suddenly frantic breathing. Even his socks were wet, but Alex couldn’t bring himself to remove those too. He sank to the floor, resting his back against the wall and curling his knees up to his chest. He felt exhausted but jittery, desperate for tranquillity but unable to stop his hands from shaking. A droplet of water splashed onto his shoulder and Alex choked out something between a laugh and a sob as he remembered the state of his hair. He was soaked through.

He had known since that first bout of thunder that the day was a write-off. Nothing good could come out of a day that started like that. So, Alex resigned himself to huddling on the floor, cursing the fact that there were no locks in the offices of this building. Time passed, unannounced except for the desk clock which Alex couldn’t see from here anyway. He breathed. His heart rate returned to a regular, dependable beat in his chest. His arms relaxed a little, not clinging quite so tightly to his knees. The clock ticked.

_Thud._

A noise from somewhere above him. It wasn’t thunder – it probably wasn’t thunder, how would he be able to hear thunder from in here? There were no windows! – but it was similar enough. Alex pushed himself to his feet, his stomach twisting. He didn’t want to stay here anymore. He didn’t even have his headphones with him to close out the world and distract him from the terror clawing at his chest. This safe space had been corrupted. His hands began to twitch of their own volition again. And suddenly, Alex knew what he needed. He needed to be looked after. He needed help and instruction and for someone to pet his hair. He needed Washington.

He staggered to the door, not bothering to fake another phone call but instead jogging down the corridor to Washington’s office. He didn’t knock, just wrenched open the door and half fell inside, suddenly desperate for the care he knew Washington would give him. The office was empty.

Alex swallowed. Of course the office was empty. Washington was known to have meetings in other places from time to time. That was fine. Totally, completely, one hundred percent –

Alex moved stiffly to the sofa and sat down mutely. He could wait. After a beat, he brought his feet up underneath him and rested his head on the arm of the sofa. It wasn’t like Washington would care. It was at this point that Alex realised that he had left his shoes, jacket and tie crumpled on the floor of his office. His bottom lip began to tremble and his breathing hitched and oh, how Alex _hated_ his lack of control over his own muscles.

He began to count in his head – somehow, counting in French had always been soothing to him.

 _Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept-huit-neuf,_ \- the numbers began to condense into one and Alex paused, forced himself to breathe, and began again.

_Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf..._

Time slipped by as he counted ever higher. It was lucky that Alex’s French was good since he had reached _trois-cent huit_ before the door handle moved behind him. By that point, Alex had succeeded in focusing wholly on the numbers and his eyes had stopped betraying his turmoil. He had closed them some time ago.

 _At huit,_ the door handle moved.

At _neuf,_ the door opened.

At _dix,_ Washington entered the room. He wasn’t alone.

“-imperative that we consider the full ramifications of – oh!” The other man came to a sharp halt and Alex jerked upright, staring in horror at the glinting eyes of Thomas Jefferson. Jefferson looked delighted, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

Alex stumbled to his feet, taking a step backwards as his brain began a chant.

_Oh god, oh god, oh shit shit shit fuck this is awful oh my god-_

“Alexander,” Washington said, and Alex couldn’t read his tone and he couldn’t look at him and he just knew that this was going to be it for them. He had embarrassed Washington in front of Thomas Jefferson, a very senior politician whose power and influence was not to be underestimated.

_Oh fucking hell this is so bad, oh my god –_

Jefferson smirked as he swept his eyes slowly from Alex’s face down to his feet and back again. Alex felt his bottom lip begin to go again as he remembered that alongside his soaking wet hair and trousers, he was wearing neither shoes nor tie.

_O h m y g o d what a fucking mess why did you think you could come here why did you fuck this up too why why why why why_

“Well, well,” Jefferson drawled. “Looks like a little stray decided to shelter from the storm!”

Alex’s shoulders tensed even more with that last word and he snapped his face downwards, cheeks burning with shame, no words left with which to defend himself. He would make a run for it, but the two men were blocking off the door. He was completely at their mercy.

The edges of his mind were going dark with panic again when Washington’s voice, dark and sharp, cut through the chanting in his head.

“Thomas, I’m afraid we will have to postpone. Kindly see yourself out.”

Alex didn’t dare to look but could imagine all too easily the way in which Jefferson’s eyebrows would shoot upwards in disbelief and disdain. He began to speak, all snark and sarcasm.

“Washington, with all due respect, my time is exceedingly precious and frankly –“

This time, Washington’s voice was menacing.

“Jefferson. Get out. Now”.

Alex stared at the carpet through the blur of tears threatening to spill down his face. A beat passed. Jefferson’s shoes made their way across to the door and he flounced out without a word. The door closed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o m g your comments have been so incredible! I guess there's only so many times I can say thank you but hey lemme say it again - THANK YOU!!
> 
> Katie  
> x

Suddenly Washington was in front of him, strong arms encircling Alex and enveloping him into a hug. It was almost too much, too crushing, but it only lasted a few seconds before Washington pulled back and guided Alex back down onto the sofa.

“My boy,” Washington said, and his voice actually wavered. “Alex, my boy, what happened? Are you hurt? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, son.”

His voice cut off, oddly uncertain. Alex didn’t look up.

“Alex, look at me,” Washington murmured gently, resting those long fingers underneath Alex’s chin and tilting his head up until they were looking straight at each other. Alex said nothing. Washington’s eyes were full of fear and guilt and something else that Alex couldn’t quite define. Washington brought his other hand up to cup the side of Alex’s face. It was when his fingers began to play with the still-wet strands of Alex’s hair that the flood gates burst open.

Alex flung himself on to Washington, wrapping his arms around the older man and pressing his head into the gap between neck and shoulder, taking great shuddering breaths as the tears came back in full force. Washington’s arms curled protectively around his back, and Alex relaxed a little, knowing that he was still welcome here.

“Shh, my boy, it’s going to be all right, shhh, just breathe, son...” Washington murmured in his ear, his voice a low hum. Alex could feel Washington’s heart beating against his own chest and clutched even more tightly to his boss, no longer caring about propriety or professionalism or embarrassment. He had passed all of that a long time ago. Right now, Alex _needed._

They stayed like that, pressed against each other on the grey sofa, Alex inhaling the scent of Washington’s cologne, until he had stopped shaking and his breaths had evened out. Gingerly, he unwrapped his arms and released Washington, scooting backwards a little on the sofa but still keeping their legs touching, the contact grounding Alex like an anchor.

He wiped at his eyes and took a deep breath in and out. Washington’s hand landed on his leg, thumb rubbing softly up and down over Alex’s damp suit. There was a moment of silence, and then-

“The storm,” Alex blurted out. He looked searchingly into Washington’s eyes and what he found there spurred him to continue.

“When I was young, there was a – a storm. A big one. The island was pretty much destroyed.” He hadn’t told this story in a very long time. Alex closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to look deep into Washington’s. “Lots of people died. People I considered family. My –“ he took a sharp breath in and looked to the ceiling. “My mother died pretty soon afterwards. She died of a sickness and I’m pretty sure it was all down to the doctor but it’s all jumbled up and connected in my head. I dream about it a lot. So – so I don’t like storms.” Alex’s eyes flicked back down towards Washington, whose thumb continued to stroke Alex’s leg gently.

“I had a brother,” Washington said quietly. “His name was Lawrence.”

The past tense was enough for Alex to understand. He nodded, then slowly, gently, inched his small hand towards Washington’s large one and interwove their fingers. They stayed like that for a moment, just breathing together, until Alex remembered something.

“Sir- Jefferson! We need him! And he – and you –“

Washington held up the hand that had rested on Alex’s leg and he fell silent again.

“We can sort it out. Later. For now, I think we both need a break. And Alex?”

“Sir?”

“Call me George. Please.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “George,” he tried, and it came out as something between a whisper and a sigh. Washington’s – _George’s_ eyes flashed and his lips widened into a slow smile. His eyes flicked down to Alex’s rumpled suit.

“My boy, if you stay in wet clothes you’re going to get ill again, and I can’t have that.”

Alex cocked his head to one side, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t have a change of clothes, s- _George_.”

Washington stood up, dropping Alex’s hand and moving towards his desk. Alex suddenly felt very alone. George rummaged under his desk, emerging with a carrier bag.

“In that case, son,” he said evenly, “I suppose I will have to lend you something of mine.”

Alex’s mouth went dry. George continued.

“Isn’t it lucky that I keep spare clothes here?” He didn’t seem to want a reply, which was fortunate since at that image, Alex had lost the ability to form intelligent thought.

George pulled a navy shirt out of the bag then clicked his tongue. “I have trousers here too but you would be swimming in them...” He hesitated, then pulled the trousers out of the bag too and handed both articles to Alex. “Probably better that you wear both,” he murmured, and it was all that Alex could do to nod numbly.

Washington turned and strode across to the other side of the room, eyes front and arms crossed behind his back. Alex’s fingers shook slightly as he tried to unbutton his shirt, but this time it wasn’t from shock or exhaustion. He eventually undid it, sliding it from him and draping it over the arm of the sofa. He glanced briefly over to where George was standing, then brought the shirt to his face and inhaled softly. His senses were flooded with the scent and Alex hurried to get his arms into the sleeves, suddenly desperate to be wrapped in the shirt. It swamped him, almost going down to his knees. He quickly shucked his trousers and peeled off the wet socks, dumping his sodden clothes in a pile on the floor. He looked down at himself and swallowed. He looked at George’s trousers, still neatly folded. He paused. What he was about to do was a risk, he knew. But it was a risk well worth taking. There would be no going back after this.

Alex stood and walked slowly but deliberately to where George was standing. Hearing the footfalls, George asked, “can I turn around now?”

“Yes,” Alex breathed.

George turned. He took in the view of Alex wearing nothing but that dark blue shirt and he sucked in a breath.

“oh yes, son,” George’s eyes glittered dangerously, “You look much more _comfortable_ out of those wet clothes.”

Their eyes met. A jolt of electricity passed between them, and Alex’s heart began to beat a little faster for the third time that day.

But then, George leaned back – Alex hadn’t realised how close their faces had been – and schooled his face into a more reserved expression. Alex tilted his head, confused and begging silently that George hadn’t changed his mind, hadn’t realised that Alex wasn’t worth the herculean effort that it would take to be with him.

“George?” he asked, though it sounded more like a plea. George smiled, and Alex relaxed a little at the sight of it.

“Not yet,” George replied, and Alex nodded. “Firstly, you need to sleep. And please put the trousers on, my boy, or else neither of us will be able to get anything done.”

Alex smiled sheepishly and walked back across to the sofa, scooping up the trousers and stepping inside them.

“At this rate, I may as well move in here,” he joked lightly, and George chuckled.

“I wouldn’t have a problem with that,” came the reply, and Alex actually blushed as he finished fastening the trousers. He had to roll the waistband over several times to keep them from slipping off his hips, and did the same with the cuffs of the trousers, folding over the bottom of each leg. This time when he appraised himself, Alex giggled.

He looked like a child dressed in his father’s clothes. Washington turned and smiled too at the endearing sight. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

This time, Alex didn’t need to be prompted. He lay down on the sofa and his exhaustion finally hit him. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and smiled sleepily.

“Sleep well, Alexander,” he heard.

“G’night George”, he mumbled, and then he was drifting down into sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote Legally Blonde The Musical - "oh my god, oh my god you guys!"  
> Seriously. I woke up this morning like "it would be nice if I had four or five comment notifications!" and then I had 16!!!  
> I love you all THANKS A LOT <3

Alexander had been asleep on the sofa for around forty five minutes. George had emailed around the office that he was dealing with an emergency and was not to be disturbed, and then had settled into work. As he typed, the sound of Alexander’s soft breathing filled the room, the perfect soundtrack. It was calm and quiet and pretty damn perfect, actually. George worked steadily through his inbox, occasionally glancing over at the sleeping man cradled in his spare clothes. Beautiful.

George was just beginning an email to Jefferson when he heard it. First it was just the quickening of Alexander’s breaths. As the young man’s breaths became a little ragged, George looked up, concerned. But then Alex moaned. George’s pupils dilated. Blood rushed to his face. There was no mistaking a noise like that.

The sleeping Alex moaned again and, mortified, George felt his trousers tighten. _Oh my - what if he wakes up and I’m – and he’s –_

He almost missed it. The single word was almost lost amid Alex’s panting. It was breathy, quiet, but definitely there:

“George!”

A tingle shot through George like a shock of electricity as the realization hit him. Alex was dreaming about _him,_ about _them. Those noises were for him._

He inhaled sharply, mesmerised yet frozen. He could only watch as Alex began to shift on the sofa, murmuring, “yes, yes, please, George!” under his breath. George slammed his eyes shut. He couldn’t watch this. It would be taking advantage of the situation.

As the breathy moans continued, George fought all of his primal instincts, slamming his hands over his ears. All he wanted was to cross the room and finally, _finally,_ break that magnetic tension between them. He knew that Alex wouldn’t say no when he woke up. George also knew that that wasn’t true consent and he could never allow himself to violate that golden rule. It would take all of his self-restraint when Alex was _right there,_ panting and moaning and sighing his name, but George would never be able to forgive himself if he made a move when Alex’s ability to give consent was compromised.

Suddenly, an idea came to him, and he wrenched open a desk drawer, digging frantically in it until he pulled out a pair of tangled headphones. A few metres away, Alex’s moans were reaching a crescendo, and George hurried frantically to untangle the damned wires, extremely grateful that his office was fully sound-proofed. Finally succeeding, he jammed the jack into the headphone dock of his phone, selected some music at random, and pressed play. He had to turn it up to full blast in order to fully drown out those beautiful noises, and as Beethoven’s 5th symphony flooded into his ears, George determinedly set his eyes on the computer screen.

He knew that he wouldn’t actually be able to get anything done in this situation – he was still painfully hard beneath his desk and could feel the pounding of his heart all through his body – but he could still pretend. The symphony continued as George stared at the email he had started to write. He prayed that Alex would wake up soon.

*

Alex came to, and for once he immediately knew exactly where he was. He took a moment to reflect on the intensity of the dream he’d just enjoyed and the subsequent bulge in his – Washington’s – _George’s_ trousers. Thinking of his boss, Alex turned to look towards the desk. There he was, bright red in the face and tense, staring harshly at whatever was on his screen. Alex could feel his own pulse thrumming through his veins.

“Hey,” he whispered, anticipating an immediate reaction. George didn’t even flinch. Alex narrowed his eyes.

“George?” he asked, more insistently this time. No reply.

Nerves started to bubble in his chest. Alex stood and made his way towards the wooden desk, planting himself directly in George’s line of sight. Finally, George looked up. _Oh –_ it dawned on Alex that his boss was wearing headphones. When he removed the buds, Alex could hear some kind of orchestral music buzzing through the air before George jabbed at his phone and it was silenced.

“Hey,” Alex tried again, significantly more pleased with the reaction this time. George’s eyes darkened and he pushed his chair back, standing to his full height.

“Hello, my boy,” George murmured, and _shit,_ Alex didn’t think he had been more turned on in his life. His eyes flicked down to George’s crotch and Alex inhaled a quick blast of air. He took one step towards George, reaching out to touch, to feel, to learn.

But George was shaking his head and backing away and Alex stopped short, uncertain.

“we –we can’t”, George choked out, voice strained. “You were – when you were asleep – and it wouldn’t be right – I don’t want you to have any regrets,” he stammered. Alex had never seen the so-called General so flustered and he saved the memory of it in the back of his mind.

Alex took another step closer. George, still shaking his head, backed away and moved to the other side of the desk.

“No, Alexander,” he said, firmly this time. “I will not violate your trust. You are in a – a heightened state and any...interactions would be inappropriate.”

Alex looked up at George from under his lashes. “George, I am not under the influence of alcohol. I am not on any medication or other form of drugs. Trust me when I tell you that _I need you right now.”_

George looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, indecision dancing on his face. Alex looked to the ground and slowly swept his eyes back up to meet George’s face, biting his bottom lip.

“Please, sir,” he whispered.

 Suddenly, George surged towards him, hurtling back around the desk to slam their lips together. It was sweet and harsh and messy and passionate all at once, and Alex groaned as he felt those hands tangle into his hair, George’s nails teasing at his scalp.

 _Yes! Yes! Yes!_ sang Alex’s brain, and only when George chuckled into his mouth did Alex realise that he’d been whispering out loud. With George’s hard body pressed up against his own, fingers in his hair and that perfect mouth on his, Alex couldn’t bring himself to care.

They paused for breath, George stooping to rest his head against Alex’s.

“You’re tall,” Alex said breathlessly, and a laugh rumbled through George.

“I think we can figure out a way around that,” he replied, stepping backwards to sit on the edge of his desk. He spread his knees and Alex stepped between his legs to connect their mouths in another searing kiss, wrapping his arms around George’s shoulders.

In between kisses, Alex caught fragments of words, and what he heard made him breathless all over again.

“-wanted you for so long, my boy – you’re so beautiful, so perfect for me – oh Alex, Alex, Alex!”

It was like a prayer, and Alex felt worshipped as he leaned back in to close the distance between them once more. He moaned into the kiss, and felt rather than heard George’s responding groans of pleasure. Eventually, the pressure became too much. Alex stepped backwards, and held out a hand. George took it, sliding to his feet, lips swollen, the brown of his eyes nearly completely obscured by his dilated pupils.

Alex kept his eyes on George’s as he slid down to his knees. At the feeling of Alex’s small hands on his belt, George threw back his head in a silent moan. Alex grinned.

*

Later that afternoon, once they had surreptitiously cleaned themselves up and Alex had begrudgingly changed back into his now-dry suit, they emerged from George’s office. The storm had passed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys.   
> Tomorrow morning I will find out what university I have gotten into... I'm so nervous that I actually feel sick! Wish me luck :O
> 
> Side note: ever since I wrote that Alex counts in his head when he's stressed, I've started doing it too! I think there will be a lot of counting tomorrow...
> 
> Hope you enjoy a bit of domestic fluff!

That evening, Alex hummed to himself as he prepared his dinner. It was Friday night, but for once he’d decided to skip the usual takeaway, and after some digging around in his cupboards had rustled up the ingredients for some sort of tomato / bacon / cheese / pasta creation. He shimmied around the kitchen as he assembled what he thought might actually be an edible meal. He did enjoy cooking, but it wasn’t something he allowed himself to do very often, generally preferring to buy pre-cooked rubbish to save on money and time. But tonight, Alex was in an unusually good mood, and his smile grew even more as he heard his phone beep at him from the satchel he had discarded on a chair. He put down the wooden spoon he’d been using and rummaged for the phone, pulling it out to discover a text.

**General:** I hope you’re enjoying your evening, Alex.  
**A. Ham:** Very much thank you sir ;)  
**A. Ham:** Just cooking dinner rn

Alex put down his phone as the pasta began to boil and bubble in the pan. He turned down the heat and stirred, glancing back at his phone to a new message from George.

  
**General:** what is “rn”??

Alex chuckled to himself at that, turning the bacon over as he quickly texted a reply with his other hand.  
  
**A. Ham:** really??? You’re what, 40? It means “right now” in the kl kidz txt speak #lol  
**General:** 42 :(  
**A. Ham:** No :( . Just :) :) :) .

Alex drained the pasta and mixed in his other ingredients before slopping half of it into his bowl and the other half into a container to go in the fridge for tomorrow. He found a clean set of cutlery and sat at the little table, about to dig in when the phone chimed again.

**General:** well, in that case... :) :) :)

They were totally flirting, even if it was through emojis, and Alex felt a bit of a rush as he read the newest message. He thought that it was rather like a dance: someone makes one move, their partner responds in kind. Or maybe that was more like chess? Alex gave up on the analogies in favour of re-reading the string of smiley faces that he’d just received. Somehow George’s lack of understanding of text linguistics was completely adorable, and Alex resolved to use as many abbreviations as possible in the future. The scent of the meal in front of him hit his nose and Alex set down his phone to dig in. Ok, so his food wasn’t exactly spectacular, but god damn did he love pasta. 

After his meal, instead of leaving the dishes by the sink like he usually did, Alex washed them all straight away by hand, once again humming some catchy pop song as he scrubbed and dried. He allowed his thoughts to wander, and soon he was imagining what it would be like to do this very same chore with George at his side, maybe drying off the dishes that Alex washed. It would be more fun with the two of them. Suddenly, Alex realised that he was fantasizing about doing household chores with his boss and mentally berated himself. _It’s not like this is a relationship or anything,_ he lectured himself. _So you exchanged blowjobs in his office. That doesn’t mean you’re moving in together!_

But a traitorous voice replied, _you exchanged blowjobs after he comforted you and looked after you and cared for you and kissed you._

Then the sneaky voice whispered _: And that was the best blowjob you’ve ever had in your life._

The image of Washington manoeuvring a pliant Alex onto the sofa and then descending to his knees burst from Alex’s memory. He had already replayed the scene so many times that he could remember exactly how the light had hit George’s face; exactly how his eyelashes had framed those darkening, glinting eyes. That look had sent a jolt of electricity down Alex’s spine and even now as he finished drying his cutlery, Alex felt his heart begin to beat a little faster just at the memory of it. As well as the memory of what had come next, of course.

Alex re-located to his bedroom, kicking off his shoes and opening his laptop. It was only ten o’clock, so he should have a few hours to get things done. Just as he was creating a new word document, a text message arrived.

**General:** I don’t mean to pry Alex but I hope you will remember to go to bed soon :)

Alex was taken aback; face contorting in surprise as he read the message. Firstly because George had been thinking about Alex’s sleeping patterns from across town in his undoubtedly fancy apartment, but also because the idea of going to bed “soon” was just so odd. His fingers danced across the keyboard as he replied:

**A. Ham:** It’s ten???

The reply was quick, as if George had anticipated Alex’s confusion and had already prepared a response.

**General:** May I suggest that you turn off your laptop within the next half hour? You might be grateful tomorrow and I would be relieved to know that you’re getting the rest you need.

Alex supposed that it was a very sweet gesture, and was just typing a text in the affirmative when another message came through.

**General:** After all, there were some...strenuous activities today, you are probably quite tired :) :) :)

Alex barked a laugh at that. “Strenuous activities” was probably the closest a man like George would be able to get to saying “You sucked me off so I returned the favour”

**A. Ham:** All right, old man. Turning the laptop off now :) :) :)

He did so, plugging it into the charger by the foot of his bed. Alex padded into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, returning to his room a few minutes later to find one last message waiting for him.

**General:** Good night, my boy. Sleep well x

Alex swallowed as he saw that final letter. X. A kiss. Alex wasn’t entirely sure that it was normal to think in emojis, but at that moment, all that was running through his mind was “:) :) :)”.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got into my first choice Uni!!!!!!! It has been one hell of a day! So I'm going to study languages at Oxford beginning in October <3 <3 <3 Thank you all for the good luck messages, they obviously paid off!
> 
> Katie  
> xxx

When Alex woke up, it struck him that something was missing. The apartment was quiet. He scrunched up his face and groggily brought a hand to his hair. Then it clicked: there was no blaring alarm assaulting his ears.

Alex opened his eyes fully and jabbed at the phone on his bedside table. It was nearly half past eight – he had woken up before his alarm. Alex was taken aback, sitting up leisurely as he considered this. Beneath the fog of sleepiness, he felt physically better than he had in a while. Normally, the day after an attack like that, his body felt as though it had been hit by a truck. But, as Alex stretched and wriggled his feet under the duvet, he confirmed to himself that he felt comfortable and warm and relaxed.

When the alarm went off a few minutes later, Alex silenced it immediately and wrenched himself out of bed to face the day. A shower and a breakfast of cereal and coffee later and Alex was feeling unusually buzzed, mind racing. He fetched his laptop, settled at the kitchen table, and began to type. It was one of the good days; the days when words just appeared and all he had to focus on was typing them quickly enough to get them all down. He raced through two potential speeches for upcoming events, then turned his attention to other tasks. By three o’ clock he had written thousands of words and was feeling very pleased indeed.

Having finally surfaced from the trance of working, Alex realised that he was hungry. He pottered around the kitchen before remembering that he had left his phone in the other room. Last night’s pasta was heating in the microwave, so he retrieved his phone from his bedside, unsurprised to find it blinking with messages. He _was_ surprised, however, to find a text amongst the onslaught of emails.

**General:** Good morning :)

Alex felt a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. The text had been sent earlier in the morning, probably whilst he was buried in his laptop. He thumbed a reply.

**A. Ham:** Good afternoon :)

To his surprise, George responded straight away.

**General:** Ah! He emerges!

Alex snorted with laughter as he began the next message.

**A. Ham:** Sorry sir, I’ve been doing #werk

**General:** Is that a typo from Alexander Hamilton? Surely not!

Alex grinned to himself. He was aware of the fact that he was standing alone in his apartment grinning like a Cheshire cat but honestly couldn’t bring himself to care.

**A. Ham:** #werk #yolo #lol

He was honestly a little disgusted with himself for having written those letters but he ignored his disgust in favour of imagining George’s reaction. Would he turn to google to translate the code that Alex had written? George seemed the type of man who would want to understand everything about a situation before formulating a response. Sure enough, Alex had to wait a little before the next message came through. He wandered through to the kitchen to rescue his pasta, and had begun to eat when his phone chimed again.

**General:** So, do you have any plans for the weekend?

Alex smirked. So George was changing the subject to hide his confusion. He would let him...this time.

**A. Ham:** Feeling inspired so I’ll probably keep a low profile and just get some writing done. I could do with some down time.

**General:** I would say so, son.

And maybe that word shouldn’t have sent a tingle through Alex but he couldn't help it if the sight of it made him inhale sharply. He took a breath, trying to calm himself, before formulating a response.

**A. Ham:** You got plans?

**General:** Working also. Trying to smooth things over with Jefferson if possible. He’s being stubborn.

Alex’s rosy mood took a bit of a hit as he read that. After all, it had been his fault that George had sent Jefferson away yesterday. If he hadn’t gone crying to his boss then Jefferson wouldn’t have had an excuse to act childishly. Alex worried his lip with his teeth as he texted a reply.

**A. Ham:** Sorry to hear that sir. Good luck.

**General:** Thank you, Alex. Have a nice day.

Alex exhaled as he put his phone down. The Jefferson Problem could cause some real issues if the man decided to be difficult. George had barely snubbed him: it had been obvious why Jefferson was being sent away, but Alex knew that Jefferson enjoyed playing the wronged victim. He would likely milk the situation for all that it was worth, manipulating George to force him to try and regain Jefferson’s favour.

Frowning, Alex put his dishes in the sink. George was a good negotiator, but Jefferson could be ruthless behind the sickeningly suave facade. He resolved to give the matter some thought, but for the moment turned back to the unfinished word document on his laptop. He wiggled his fingers before settling them on the keys and beginning to type once more.

*

That evening, Alex stopped working around eight. His back was protesting from being in one position for so long, and Alex realised with surprise that he had nothing left to write for the moment. The burst of inspiration had sustained him through each and every piece of work that had been on his to-do list.

He made dinner (when was the last time he’d cooked two nights in a row? He really needed to get some more food in the fridge) and changed into his pyjamas. Alex sat down on the edge of his bed, not entirely sure what to do next. It was barely quarter to nine, so sleep was out of the question. Instead, he found his phone and sent off a quick message.

**A. Ham:** Hey :)

There was no immediate response, and Alex told himself firmly that it was _not_ disappointment that he felt curling in his gut. Shaking his head as if to deny to himself that he would feel such a thing, Alex went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. Upon his return he felt extremely gratified to find that his phone had lit up with a message.

**General:** Good evening, Alex. How was your afternoon?

**A. Ham:** Good, thanks. Got a lot done. I probably won’t even have anything to do tomorrow now! You?

**General:** A little frustrating, if I’m honest. Jefferson refuses to respond. He will get over it I’m sure, but in the meantime I am uncertain about where his support lies.

**General:** Yes, you should have a break tomorrow. Relax, take some time for yourself.

From anyone else, Alex would have taken that instruction as an attempt at control and would likely have bitten their head off about it. But from George...

Alex surprised himself for the second time that day as he only smiled and typed a reply in the affirmative before sending a quick goodnight. After that, he flicked around various websites for a while, but the issue with Jefferson remained in his mind. _Jefferson refuses to respond,_ George had written. Maybe...

Alex sort of knew that it wasn’t a very good idea even as he found Jefferson’s number and wrote out the message, but if there was a chance that he could help George by sorting this out, he was going to take it.

**A. Ham:** Good evening Mr Jefferson. Apologies for disturbing you at a weekend but I was wondering if I could be of any assistance in resolving the matter between yourself and Senator Washington?

Alex hesitated for a moment, thumb over the little send button. _Send._

That done, Alex discarded the phone and curled up under his duvet. It was half past ten, but Alex was content to wrap the duvet around himself and descend gently into sleep.

*

A message was waiting for him the next day.

**T. Jefferson:** Buy me a drink tonight and we’ll call it even.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!! Thank you so much for all the lovely comments, I will go through and reply to everyone individually tomorrow <3
> 
> Also shoutout to The_Cerulean_Author for their lovely new fic that I just read!
> 
> Ok, so please heed the "Jefferson is a colossal dick" and "misuse of alcohol" tags - this is where they start to come into the story.
> 
> I love you all, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Katie xx

Alex stared at the message.

He felt his lip curl in disgust as he took it in.

_Buy me a drink tonight and we’ll call it even._

Alex had woken up five minutes earlier feeling refreshed, calm, and well-rested, a feeling that he rarely got the opportunity to enjoy. But as soon as he’d read Jefferson’s response all of that happy warmth had fallen away and he had been left feeling almost nauseous as he got dressed. It was the combination of the hint of flirtation and the blatant manipulation that resulted in Alex’s feeling of cosy contentment shattering. This wasn’t going to end well, he could tell.

Alex still knew that he would do almost anything to help George succeed, and buying Thomas Jefferson alcohol wasn’t the lowest he could stoop to. But as he brushed his teeth, Alex found himself unable to ignore the cocktail of panic and irritation swirling inside him. _Great job, Hamilton. Really good going. Now Thomas ‘fuckboy’ Jefferson feels like he has power over you. Fantastic._

Only when he was munching on his cereal did Alex begin to wonder how he should respond. A message with the wrong tone would put Jefferson’s back up even more, but the idea of meekly submitting to Jefferson’s game made Alex’s skin crawl in discomfort.

**A. Ham:** Alright. Where would you like to meet?

There. That seemed like a reasonable response, didn’t it? Clear, concise... Alex groaned and dropped his phone onto the table in irritation. As if he wanted to spend his Sunday trying to pander to Jefferson’s ego. Alex stood up abruptly and dumped his dirty bowl in the sink, not even bothering to rinse it out with water before he stalked back into the bedroom.

Determined to enjoy his day of relaxation, he called up Netflix on his laptop and found what looked like a pretty good movie. He settled back onto his pillows, resting the laptop on his stomach. But even though he tried to focus on the developing plot, his brain just wouldn’t switch off.

_Will he really change his political actions depending on whether I buy him a drink tonight? That seems a little extreme even for Jefferson._

After half an hour of not really paying enough attention to the movie, Alex switched it off. Maybe a book would provide a better distraction.

*

It was one of the most unsettled and unsatisfying days Alex had experienced in a while.

There were a few texts from George throughout the day but Alex could tell that he was stressed and didn’t want to bother him too much so the conversation fizzled out. He tried to read but couldn’t concentrate. He tried to write – a political tirade that he would never publish but should have enjoyed writing – but the words just wouldn’t come. By four o’clock he was so frustrated with himself for not enjoying this one shot at relaxation that he gave up entirely on doing anything productive and went to bury himself under the covers of his bed.

He curled up in a little ball of irritation and tried to clear his thoughts for just one minute. But that ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach wouldn’t go away.

*

Alex walked into the bar a few hours later, forcing himself to stand up straight and keep his facial expression neutral. He still wasn’t sure about the outfit he had eventually settled on – jeans and a fresh shirt. He’d thought he was smart enough when he left home but this place, “The Virginia”, was pretty ostentatious.

It was busy for a Sunday night. Most of the tables were full of polished-looking people laughing drily over their cocktails, and Alex could only make out a few spots at the bar. Over the hum of conversation, he caught the whiny quality of Jefferson’s voice. He was sat in one of those oddly fancy bar stools, and as Alex came closer he could see that he was talking to –

Alex felt his carefully schooled expression rebel as his eyes narrowed. Jefferson hadn’t mentioned that _his entire team_ were going to be here. He swallowed down the odd sense of humiliation in his chest and forced himself to keep moving forwards until he was stood just behind Jefferson. The five or six other men in the group – Alex recognised almost all of them but could name only James Madison – all locked eyes on him and Alex felt himself heat up under the weight of their smirks. Jefferson had clearly noticed that his companions were all staring at something located just behind his left shoulder, but he didn’t turn.

Alex’s fingers twitched.

“Good evening, Mr Jefferson,” he said, keeping his voice as level as possible.

Now Jefferson span around slowly on the chair, taking advantage of the height of the stool to look down on Alex from above.

“Well hello there,” he drawled, eyes lighting up in glee. “How good of you to join us, Mr Hamilton.”

Alex nodded but didn’t say anything. Jefferson’s grin spread a little wider.

There was a pause.

Realising what was expected of him, Alex felt the humiliation begin to thrum under his skin like a drumbeat.

“Could I buy you a drink, sir?” he asked, fake smile not reaching his eyes. The “sir” was painful but Alex hoped that if he buttered Jefferson up enough now, he could buy the drink and escape back home.

The glee in Jefferson’s eyes had shifted into pure malice.

“Well... I don’t see the harm in it,” he said, pouting and tilting his head to one side as though weighing up the pros and cons. “What do we think, everyone? Shall we allow Hamilton to buy us drinks?”

“Whisky over here,” one of them called.

“Scotch, neat, and make it quick,” another laughed.

Alex turned on his heel to head towards the barman as the orders rained down on him but he felt a hand latch onto his elbow and stopped.

“No, no, Mr Hamilton,” Jefferson crooned in his ear. “We make the little worker bees come to us!”

He released Alex and flicked his arm into the air to snap his fingers. A few moments later a woman had materialised behind the bar and Alex muttered the group’s orders to her.

“Oh no, no, no!” Jefferson laughed, a horrible fake thing that set Alex’s teeth on edge. “You have forgotten to order anything for yourself!”

Alex repressed the urge to scream.

“How silly of me,” he said with no intonation, turning back to the bar to order a coke.

“Make that a vodka and coke, Sally!” Jefferson butted in, and the woman nodded before ringing everything up on the till. Alex pulled out his wallet but heard another god-awful parody of a laugh behind him and turned to look at Jefferson.

“Oh, Hamilton, you are entertaining,” he laughed, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye. “We’ll just add them to your tab!”

Alex didn’t reply. The drinks appeared on the bar and he handed them out to the rest of the group. Madison had the courtesy to offer a muttered “thanks”, at least, but Alex still felt horribly manipulated. It was only when he had distributed the drinks that he realised that there were no spare seats nearby. Of course there weren’t.

He stood between Thomas’ chair and the table where the other men were lounging, vodka and coke help tightly in his grip. He took a deep breath in and released it quietly before turning back to Jefferson.

“So, I have bought you your drink. Can we say that this matter is sealed?” He even through in a smile although he feared it might have come across more manic than genuine.

“Hmm,” Jefferson said, swirling his drink absentmindedly with his straw. “That’s an interesting idea, Mr Hamilton, but I’m not quite done with you yet.” Now he leaned in conspiratorially.

“I was so very upset when _dear_ Washington sent me away on Friday”.

_You’ve already sacrificed your dignity tonight, you might as well get this over with now,_ Alex thought to himself.

He looked up at Jefferson and forced himself to look contrite.

“I am very sorry about that, sir. There was something of an incident that morning. Obviously Senator Washington would never intend to waste your time, but when you got back to his office –“

“When we got back to his office,” Jefferson interrupted, “there was a pathetic little drowned rat waiting there. And Washington chose to send _me_ away.” His eyes were flashing dangerously now, and Alex could feel the group of suited men behind him leering.

“So, Mr Hamilton, drink up like a good little worker bee or else...”

And now he leaned in close to whisper in Alex’s ear, the huff of his breath making Alex shudder.

“I will make Washington’s political pursuits infinitely more difficult.”

Alex didn’t move. Jefferson leaned back, smug and cruel.

“Did you think I couldn’t tell that there’s something off between the two of you? I can’t quite put my finger on it...” He examined his own fingers as he said this, but Alex was staring at the floor.

“But whatever it is, this is what I think. I think that you are going to drink up, little honey-bee, and then you are going to buy us both another drink. In fact, you are going to buy me as many drinks as I want. And you know why?”

“Why.” Alex’s tone was dull and listless but Jefferson seemed to like that.

“Because I’m _Thomas fucking Jefferson!”_

The table behind Alex erupted into laughter. He felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes but instead of wiping them away, he brought the glass in his hand to his lips and drank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #peerpressure
> 
> Sorry for the nasty turn of events! Also idk if you can tell this from the chap but despite having worked in a duty free shop all summer I know next to nothing about alcohol soooo ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's trouble in the air, you can smell it...
> 
> Thanks as always for the incredible support <3
> 
> Katie  
> xxx

Alex was leaning heavily on the bar, trying to focus on Jefferson’s smug face. But Jefferson kept moving from side to side. Why was he doing that? Come to think of it, everything was swaying side to side...

“Ok, ok, stop –“ Alex gasped. “I’ve had enough. I’ve – I’ve – I’ve played your little...little game and I want to go home”.

Jefferson cackled. “Aw, you’ve had enough, you say?”

Alex tried to nod, gasping as the movement caused a rush of dizziness to his head.

Jefferson pretended to consider this for a moment before shouting “Sally, darling!”

The woman appeared. At least, Alex was pretty sure it was the same woman but it was really very hard to tell when the room kept tilting like that.

“Another shot for Mr Hamilton!” Jefferson cheered, and Alex closed his eyes in horror. Through the waves of nausea he barely heard the murmuring behind him.

“Don’t you think it’s time to send him home, sir? You’ve made your point.”

Alex cracked open his eyelids to see Madison standing there, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Oh, Madison,” Jefferson sighed, slinging an arm around his companion’s shoulders. “We are hardly going to put him on a plane back to wherever the hell he came from. Plus,” and at this he grinned. “I’m having far too much fun.”

At this moment, Alex realised he had no idea what time it was and dug in his pockets to bring out his phone. As the screen lit up, Alex squinted against the brightness and forgot to look at the time, too distracted by the little message.

_Two missed calls from ‘General’_

_One new message from ‘General’._

Alex swiped his thumb across his screen and succeeded in opening the text on his third attempt.  
  


**General:** Hey. I tried to call and say goodnight but I guess you’re busy. Or maybe asleep already! Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. G :)  
  


“Tut, tut, Hamilton, where are your manners?” Jefferson exclaimed, trying to swipe Alex’s phone out of his hands but he turned it off and shoved it back into his pocket in time.

“Sorry,” he managed, bringing his other arm up to grasp the bar with both hands.

“You can make it up to us. Here – your shot, little worker bee.”

So Alex drank.

*

The first thing that he registered was the pain in his head. The second was the cold. And the third – the third –

Suddenly he couldn’t quell the nausea sloshing around inside him and Alex wretched, throat burning as he was sick. After a few minutes, he looked around the alleyway he was lying in. It was still dark but he could make out the outline of the bins next to him. Alex rested his head against the grimy wall and covered his face with his hands. The regret seemed to wipe out every other potential emotion, overtaking him and consuming him. What a monumentally stupid thing to do. What a fucking idiot he’d been.

Suddenly a thought came to him, and Alex rifled urgently in his pockets. With a flash of relief he found both his phone and his wallet, although the latter was now drained of all cash. There was a message waiting for him on the phone.

**T. Jefferson:** Thank you for the drink, Mr Hamilton. We should do this again sometime.

Alex began to wretch again.

When he was done, shivering and weak, he managed to pull himself to his feet and stumble out of the alleyway. According to his phone it was 5:37 in the morning. He couldn’t exactly call anyone at this hour, so he headed for the subway. It was horribly cold, and he’d lost his jacket at some point during the night, but Alex just focused on putting one foot in front of the other and ignoring the looks he knew he was getting from early morning commuters. He found his way onto the platform and leaned heavily against a pillar until his train pulled in. He shuffled on, found a seat, and all but collapsed into it. As the train began to move, Alex began to count.

_Un_

_Deux_

_Trois_

_Quatre_

_Cinq_

He made it home a little while later, head pounding worse than ever after dragging himself up the three flights of stairs to his apartment. A fumbling of fingers, the twist of a key and finally, _finally,_ he was home.

Only now did he allow himself to cry.

He all but ran into the bedroom, ripping the soiled outfit from his body and burying himself in an old jumper and joggers. Thank god there were still some painkillers under the sink in the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, swallowed the pills, downed two glasses of water and blasted himself with the shower, scrubbing himself clean and washing his hair until he began to feel a little more human.  Re-dressing in the comfortable clothes, Alex got into his bed and pulled the covers over himself.

After a few minutes he realised that it was Monday morning and that he was expected at work in ten minutes. For the first time, he wasn’t even remotely tempted to go into the office. The thought of seeing George – of seeing _anyone_ when he was in this sort of state just made Alex wish he’d drowned in those endless tequila shots.

So, he looked up the HR number, grimacing as the dial tone assaulted his ears, and managed to convey to whoever the hell it was on the other end of the line that he was Alexander Hamilton and that he was not coming in today due to illness. That done, he dropped the phone onto the floor and cocooned himself in the duvet, sheltering from the world outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #TakeCareOfAlex2k16
> 
> Next Chapter: George's reaction...
> 
> x


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I'm so sorry that this chapter was later than the schedule we have been on so far! But on the bright side, skipping one of our twice-daily updates means that this story will last a little bit longer and I'm so not ready for this process to end yet!! I think we have eight more chapters to go, so if I continue at two chapters per day we only have four days left of updates.  
> Personally I'd rather spin it out a little now because I'm loving the routine of posting and getting to communicate with you all so unless there is an outcry of fury in the comments section, I think I'll move to posting one update per day.
> 
> Also, there was a little confusion over what exactly Thomas did to Alex. I'm sorry if I was unclear - in a way the uncertainty about what really did happen is part of the story and it contributes to why Alex is upset. But no, Thomas did not abuse Alex in any ways except from bullying him, manipulating him into poisoning himself and then abandoning him behind the bar.
> 
> As always I am blown away by your generosity and kindness in the comments so thank you all!! Now for some much needed Whamilton H/C!
> 
> Katie   
> xx

He awoke to the sound of the phone buzzing. Grimacing, Alex reached over and searched blindly around the floor until he finally located his mobile and brought it under the covers with him.

_Incoming call from: **General**_

_If you ignore it, it will get worse,_ some wise part of Alex’s brain whispered. So despite his instinct to retreat entirely from the world once again, he accepted the call and put the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he said, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded.

“Alex? Are you all right? They said you called in sick!”

“I’m ok.”

Alex paused, not sure how much to divulge.

“I just feel a bit ill”.

He heard George exhale. “Ok. Get some rest. Do you need anything? I could bring you some soup or some medicine or –“

“-No,” Alex interrupted, then bit his lip in frustration as George fell suddenly silent. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I just need to sleep it off.”

“Ok. Whatever you need, Alex. Is anyone there with you?”

Alex huffed at that. Who on earth would be there with him?

“I’m at home so no.” He knew his answers were blunt to the point of rudeness but didn’t quite know how to fix it. He fiddled with the duvet cover with one hand and closed his eyes. George's voice was still so patient as he continued to speak.

“I’ll stop by later then and check in on you. I can bring you some lunch if you think you’ll be able to stomach it?”

“I’d rather be alone thanks.” His voice sounded all wrong and Alex knew that George would hear it even through the phone. There was a heavy sigh.

“Alex, I don’t want to overstep but please, let me take care of you. Let me help.”

And that was all it took for the tears to start again, but this time they came with great shuddering gasps.

“No – no – we can’t do this anymore, we can’t!” Over the sound of his heaving breaths he could hear George trying to placate him with soothing words but he ignored them.

His head hurt and he felt sick and he had woken up in a fucking alleyway after Thomas Jefferson got him smashed on a Sunday night and if that wasn’t a good enough reason to cry, Alex didn’t know what was.

“Sir,” he managed to croak, “What we are doing is dangerous for you. For your career. It makes you vul – vulnerable. I won’t do that to you, sir, I won’t!”

“Shh, Alex, love,” George was murmuring. “Shh, please don’t cry. I’m sorry if I upset you. We can talk later. Just get some rest for now. But please can I come by later? Please, Alex.”

Alex sniffed and wiped wildly at the tears on his face. Suddenly all of the strength to argue with George had evaporated.

“Ok. See you.”

“See you soon, Alex.”

He hung up.

Alex texted the address just in case George had forgotten, shot off quick replies to the texts he’d received from Lafayette, Laurens and Mulligan, then silenced his phone and threw it somewhere on the other side of the room. He curled around himself once more as his breaths started to even out, and soon his eyes fluttered shut as he felt the welcome pull of unconsciousness.

*

Blearily, Alex registered the thumping noises through his sleepy haze. “Shh,” he mumbled, throwing an arm over his head and rolling over under the covers.

_Thump_

_Thump_

_Thump_

And then a voice – “Alex? Are you in there?”

It was the presence of the voice that finally dragged Alex from sleep. A voice meant that there was a person. And the person knew his name.

Alex scrunched up his face and forced himself to leave the bed, staggering towards the door even as the thumping noises – knocking, he now realised –continued. With some effort, he opened the door to reveal George, face tense and hand raised to knock again.

“Alex!” George exhaled, relief flooding his features. He lowered his hand and looked uncertain for a moment before shoving it behind his back. “I’m sorry for the noise, my boy, but when you didn’t answer I thought...” he trailed off, looking uncomfortable. The fug of sleep was finally leaving Alex’s brain and he blinked slowly, shifting in his ratty pyjamas. It struck him that he should feel embarrassed to be this dishevelled in front of his boss, but by this point he didn’t really think he had any dignity left to lose.

When Alex spoke, his voice was hoarse and worn.

“Would you like to come in, sir?”

George frowned a little as Alex spoke but he simply nodded, following Alex in. As he headed for the sofa, Alex slipped a hair tie off his wrist and swept his hair up into a bun.

“I brought food, if you think you can eat,” George said, gesturing with the plastic bag he carried in his other hand.

Alex sank down onto the sofa and looked up at his boss.

“Thank you, sir. Perhaps a little later.”

“Of course,” came the reply, and the bag of food was placed onto the table.

George approached the sofa and his eyes flicked to the spot next to Alex but he made no move to sit. A split second passed before Alex patted the cushion next to him and George joined him.

Alex swallowed. George Washington, with his beautiful suit with his beautiful shoes and watch and tie should not have been sat on Alex’s crappy sofa in his crappy apartment. Alex felt a stab of guilt for bringing a man like George into a place like this. He closed his eyes, but George must have taken it for nausea because Alex felt a soothing hand on his arm, grounding and secure.

Alex opened his eyes again and the hand retreated. He cleared his throat, studiously avoiding George’s gaze. He heard a sigh from his left.

“Alex, if you don’t feel up to it right now then it can wait until later, but-“

“-but you want an explanation.” Alex cut in, jaw suddenly tense.

A beat passed. “Well, yes, if you want to offer one.” George’s voice was just so understanding and Alex couldn’t bear it a moment longer.

“Ok,” he said briskly, finally allowing his eyes to meet George’s. “If we do – _this,_ whatever _this_ is, you are jeopardizing everything that you have worked for. All that progress that we – that _you_ have made is put in danger.”

“How so?” George asked, voice painfully neutral.

“Because – because it leaves you vulnerable to manipulation. Don’t you see? This could –“

“Hang on.” Alex’s breath caught as he heard the change in George’s voice. “Wait a moment, Alexander.”

Alex forced himself to keep his features still as he stared viciously at George’s tie.

When George spoke again, slowly and carefully, his voice held that gravity which had served him so well throughout his political career.  
  
 “Has someone been manipulating you?”

Alex’s breaths went a bit funny. _Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react._

Then a hand landed gently on his arm and the floodgates broke. Alex nodded jerkily and he looked up to meet George’s eyes.

“Oh, Alex,” George breathed, and at the sound Alex launched himself at George and buried himself in his arms, shuddering with sobs as he finally found the comfort and promise of safety that he had been craving. And George’s hands were running up and down his back and George’s voice was murmuring in his ear and Alex just allowed himself to be held and to cry. He was probably staining that beautiful tie. Alex found that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Alex couldn’t have said how long they stayed like that, wrapped up together on the sofa. After a while, he stopped crying and shuddering and just clung onto George, basking in the warmth emanating from him. George’s litany of sweet nothings ran out and they rested in the silence that remained, interrupted only by the sounds of their hushed breathing. He was sat over George’s lap, arms wrapped around that toned chest and head resting in the gap between George’s neck and his shoulder. This position meant that his senses were overtaken by that perfect scent of leather and spice and something else that Alex didn’t think he would ever be able to define. Shielded from the world by the man who held him, Alex relaxed.

He could almost have fallen asleep there, but eventually Alex pulled away, shuffling off George’s lap to curl against his side instead. George’s hand found his and gently squeezed it. Alex smiled, squeezing back. Then he took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter.

“So here’s what happened...”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware: this chapter contains near-lethal doses of fluff. Enter at your own risk.  
> Katie x

As Alex recounted the story, George felt his insides turn to ice. The anger he felt was the kind that didn’t rage or pound or scream. It was a far more dangerous type of anger.

Alex had put himself into a dangerous position just to try and appease Jefferson. If George had needed any signs that Alex felt as deeply about George as he did about Alex, this was probably it. But even if his intentions had been good, George felt stifled by the ideas of what else might have happened when Alex was so vulnerable. The worst thing was that whilst all this had been happening, whilst Alex had been lying passed out in an alley, George had been comfortably sleeping and completely ignorant in his king sized bed across town.

“And then, when I woke up again, you were here. You know the rest,” Alex said quietly. He was looking down again. George thought he might never wear this tie again if Alex’s eyes were so drawn to it that they couldn’t look at George’s own. As much as he wanted to rage and pace and shout and try to relieve some of the tension spiking through him, George took in a deep breath and forced himself to relax. Jefferson wasn't here right now. The anger could come later.

He reached out slowly, so as not to startle the younger man, and cupped Alex’s chin, bringing it upwards so that their eyes met. Alex looked so uncertain, fidgeting a little where he was sat, and it made George’s heart feel heavy to witness. He leaned over and kissed Alex gently on the cheek. The shy smile that followed was so beautiful that George was tempted to kiss him again, but he restrained himself. There would be time for that.

George sighed.

“Alex,” he said quietly, “please believe me when I say that I appreciate that you wanted to help. I really do. But please don’t ever put yourself in a situation like that again.”

Alex nodded mutely. George continued.

“When I think about what could have happened, about the risks, I –“ George broke off, suddenly unable to finish that train of thought. He felt Alex’s small hands gripping his shoulders.

“hey, _hey,_ I’m here, I’m right here,” Alex whispered, and George regained some control over himself as he nodded.

“Alex, if anything like this happens again, please come to me for help,” he murmured, looking back at Alex with a sudden burning intensity. Now Alex was rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“It feels like all I ever do is go to you for help. Do you know how hard that is for me?”

George stayed quiet, capturing one of Alex’s hands in his own and rubbing his thumb back and forwards over the soft skin. Alex relaxed minutely but kept speaking.

“George, I have spent my entire life going without, just blocking it all out until something forces me to fix things or to eat or to sleep. But these last few months, I came to _you._ I chose you. Because I –”

Alex stopped, and George’s thumb stilled. When he spoke again, it was the quietest whisper.

“I need you.”

This time, George’s kiss landed on Alex’s lips. It was a chaste thing, small and delicate and fragile, but beautiful nonetheless. When he pulled away, George rested his forehead against Alex’s and looked once more into those beautiful eyes.

“I need you too, Alexander. More than I really know how to deal with. More than I can quite admit.”

Alex smiled, and it was like the sun bursting through from behind a storm cloud. They stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the tranquility and the sudden intimacy in the wake of these new admissions.

Then, Alex’s stomach grumbled and the moment was broken. George laughed as he stood up, walking towards to bag of shopping he had brought.

“So, shall I make soup? Tomato or chicken?”

*

After they ate, they returned to the sofa, Alex cuddled up against George’s broad chest. For a moment they just sat, eyes closed, breathing in tandem, before something occurred to Alex and a frown creased his forehead.

“George?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s Monday afternoon.”

“Mmm.”

“Shouldn’t you be, you know, at work?”

“Mmm.”

Alex quirked an eye open and smiled sleepily at the sight of George so relaxed. He yawned and buried his head further under George’s chin. But even though he would have gladly stayed there forever, his point was still valid.

“Geoooooorge” he mumbled, poking the larger man gently in the ribs. “Wakey wakey,”

George huffed a sigh and opened his eyes. “What was the question?”

“Work. It’s a Monday afternoon.”

George yawned quietly before bringing up a hand to rest in Alex’s hair.

“Don’t worry about that. I had Mulligan clear my schedule before I left. There were only a few meetings, nothing pressing.”

He began to run his fingers over Alex’s hair and Alex was suddenly very glad that he had washed it this morning. When George spoke again, Alex felt the low hum resonating through his chest.

“I’m all yours.”

After that, they dozed together, shifting now and then to avoid discomfort. They ended up lying length-ways along the sofa, Alex’s head on George’s chest with George’s hands encircling his waist. Their legs tangled together, George’s feet reaching over the arm of the sofa. Alex wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he eventually began to stretch, attempting unsuccessfully not to rouse George as he did so. Neither of them really felt like moving, so George reached into his case and pulled out a laptop, calling up Netflix and handing it to Alex to choose. If George was surprised when Alex chose some Pixar movie called _Inside Out,_ he didn’t say anything, happy just to be here with his- with Alex.

With his what, exactly? As much as George craved clarity, he knew that this was not the day to press Alex for definitions or labels, and so as the film began he settled back and wrapped his arms more tightly around the beautiful man snuggled against him.

Suddenly, Alex giggled, and George couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face at how adorable that was. He squeezed the still-giggling Alex, murmuring, “what is it?” in his ear.

Alex stopped laughing and turned over to gaze up at George.

“Netflix and chill!” he said, waggling his eyebrows. George chuckled at his antics, turning Alex over again and resting his arms over Alex’s chest.

“You know that I don’t know what that is, right?” he said, punctuating his question with a gentle kiss to Alex’s temple. Alex just hummed in response, shuffling a little before focusing on the laptop screen as the movie began. He found the story interesting enough, but his gaze kept drifting over to watch Alex's expressions instead. Near the end of the movie, George was shocked to see tears forming in Alex's eyes. He found Alex's hand with his own and gave it a squeeze, smiling into Alex's hair when he felt his own hand being squeezed in return. After the credits, George peered around to see that Alex's eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and even. He closed his own eyes too.

That evening, after carefully extracting himself from the sofa, George made himself some dinner with the food he had brought, setting aside Alex’s portion when he saw that he was still snoozing on the couch. George leaned against the wall for a moment, loving that he could steal this perfect moment of calm all for himself. He tilted his head and sighed, smiling softly as Alex shifted in his sleep. Probably time to get him into bed soon.

George crossed the room as quietly as he could, peering into the bedroom. He wasn’t exactly surprised by what he found. Tangled sheets, duvet discarded on the floor, clothes strewn on every available surface and a laundry basket overflowing in the corner of the room. Recalling that he’d seen a washing machine in the kitchen – something he’d noticed with surprise, considering Alex’s lack of TV – he scooped up everything that looked dirty in one arm, grabbed the laundry basket in the other, and headed back for the kitchen.

George loved cleaning. It wasn’t the chores themselves that he found pleasurable – did anyone actually enjoy ironing? – but the sense of satisfaction when everything was washed and clean and ready to be used again. He stuck everything in the washing machine, found some detergent and set the wash for half an hour. He moved back to Alex’s bedroom, sincerely hoping that Alex would appreciate his actions as the caring gesture they were intended as and not feel affronted by George’s forwardness. Glancing back at the sleeping man, George decided that Alex could do with a little coddling, and he was more than happy to provide it.

Next were the sheets. He found a clean set in a drawer before stripping the bed of the sheets that did smell a bit like the alley Alex had spent the night in. He dumped those sheets and pillowcases in a pile on the floor, replacing them with the light blue ones he had found and making the bed. He smoothed down the covers and smiled at the result of his labours. Much better.

George pottered until the timer on the wash was done, stretching the damp clothes out on the foldable drying rack that had been shoved against the wall. Next he put the dirty sheets in, and as they began to swirl in the machine, he wiped down the kitchen table absentmindedly. Every surface was gleaming by the time George heard signs of movement in the other room, so he left his dishcloth by the sink and returned to the sofa.

Alex looked blearily up at him, rumpled and sleepy and smiling even as he blinked himself awake.

“Hi,” Alex mumbled, yawning as he stretched his legs out.

“Good evening,” George smiled, sitting on the arm of the sofa which Alex’s feet didn’t quite reach to. “I’m glad you woke up. I’m going to have to head home soon.”

Would George ever stop finding the way that Alex pouted adorable? Probably not, he mused silently, repressing a smile.

“You could stay over if you want,” Alex said, shuffling backwards to sit up against the other arm of the sofa, crossing his legs. “You’re welcome to.”

“Thank you, I can’t pretend that isn’t tempting,” George replied, sighing wistfully before continuing, “Unfortunately I have to be into work very early tomorrow so I wouldn’t have time to go home and change beforehand, and I obviously don’t have anything with me here.”

“You’d better bring some things round then, don’t you think?” Alex’s question was said in an innocent tone that George didn’t buy for a second. He looked sharply at Alex, feeling his heart begin to beat a little faster in his chest. Alex continued. “Just in case you ever need to stay here...you know, for work.”

“For work,” George repeated, nodding. “That does seem practical.”

There was a moment of stillness before Alex looked around.

“Is that my washing machine?”

George was suddenly unsure of himself, dropping Alex’s gaze and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

“Oh, that. Yes. I hope you don’t mind, I put some washing on and I may also have changed your sheets?”

It came out as a question, and George braced himself for this moment of sheltered intimacy to fade. But Alex’s eyes widened in surprise rather than narrowing in irritation, and when he replied his voice was full of promise.

“You changed my sheets for me? Ok, you are definitely welcome to stay here for work whenever you want.”

Alex grinned, and George felt stupidly pleased with himself for having put that smile there. Alex stood up and came to stand in front of George.

“Thank you,” he whispered, leaning forward to join their lips in a kiss. Alex could feel George’s smile through the kiss, and when they parted that smile didn’t fade. As George made his way back home, it lingered on his lips, his head full of images of Alex and hope for what their relationship might become. Back in his apartment, Alex slipped into bed, reveling in the sensation of the fresh sheets, before falling asleep once more to very pleasant dreams indeed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all, thanks for reading and commenting and generally being amazing!!  
> Katie  
> x

 The next day, even though the memory of that horrible incident with Jefferson lingered in his mind, Alex felt physically and mentally refreshed when he woke up, and made his way into work without incident. When he got out of the lift and began to make his way towards his office, he found himself accosted by a very excitable looking John Laurens.

“Alex! What the hell happened?” But before Alex could respond, John had turned and called over his shoulder. “Guys, he’s here!”

“John? Is this because I was off sick yesterday because -”

Alex was cut off as Hercules and Lafayette appeared suddenly on either side of him. He stepped back in alarm not only at their sudden appearance but also at the intensity on both of their faces. “Guys?”

“Petit lion!” Laf exclaimed, shocking Alex by hugging him suddenly. “We were worried about you during the yesterday!”

Alex had noted in the past that Laf tended to make more mistakes with his English when he was emotional. Still, he looked in confusion at John and Hercules over Laf’ shoulders as he awkwardly patted his friend on the back. _I take one day off sick and they’re acting like I got hit by a bus,_ he thought. For a second it popped into his head that perhaps their protective behaviour was down to George having mentioned something about Jefferson, but he dismissed that idea as soon as it appeared. George respected Alex enough to let him deal with the situation as he saw fit, Alex was sure.

Lafayette retreated to stand by John and Hercules, who put a large hand on Alex’s shoulder and looked carefully into Alex’s face.

“Herc?” Alex asked, starting to feel very weirded out. “What are you doing exactly?”

Whatever Hercules was looking for in his assessment, it seemed that he found it because he nodded once before stepping back.

“Just making sure you’re ok, man,” Hercules said, looking very serious. “You had us all concerned.”

“Ok, hang on,” Alex said. “I was off sick for one day! I texted you all to say that I was fine and I just needed to sleep off the stomach bug. I really appreciate the concern you guys, but-“

And Alex suddenly realised that he _did_ appreciate it. These guys were his friends, and Alex realised with a shock that he hadn’t spent any sort of quality time with them in too long. He was about to finish his sentence when John cut in.

“Alex, you don’t take sick days. We know that you don’t take sick days because you stumble in here whether you have a fever or a cough or you’re nauseous or you haven’t slept in a week and you know how we know this?”

Alex, trapped, looked warily between the three of them before he answered, “how?”

“Because we’re the poor bastards that have to put up with you no matter what state you’re in.” John was smiling as he said this but concern was still present in his face. “So if you, Alexander “Non-stop” Hamilton, decide to take a sick day, I think we have the right to be worried.”

Alex nodded, biting his lip. “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “Yeah, I guess you have a point.”

Suddenly, Hercules jumped in Alex’s face, grinning wildly.

“Sorry, what was that? What was that? What did the great A-dot-Ham say?”

Lafayette jumped forwards too, laughing. “Why, Herculès, mon ami, I believe that he said that monsieur Laurens has a point!”

Alex grinned and waved his arms dismissively as he started to move towards his office again. He felt Lafayette’s hands land on his shoulders and cling on in a parody of a conga line as the Frenchman continued to chatter.

“He admitted that someone else was right! This is – how you say – a once-in-lifetimes occurrence, yes?”

John and Hercules joined the conga too, and thankfully they didn’t bump into any other members of staff who might have been in the area as the four men made their way to Alex’s office. Arriving at his door, Alex forcibly removed Laf’s hands and turned to face the group again.

“Thanks, guys, for the most bizarre welcome back to work I think I have ever had the joy of experiencing.”

“Any time, Hammie!” Lafayette laughed. John stepped forward and looked directly into Alex’s face.

“But seriously though, Alex, we are all here for you, ok?”

For a split second, Alex was overtaken with emotion and the realisation that he was very lucky indeed to work with such wonderful people. He had the thought to buy them all lunch to make up for worrying them the day before, but before he could announce this to the group he remembered the hit his finances had taken on Sunday night. Buying drinks for Jefferson’s entire team had unsurprisingly escalated rapidly into a very costly sum. He still wanted to spend time with the guys though, so he smiled round at everyone and asked,

“Do you guys want to go for lunch somewhere together? 1 o’clock?”

They all agreed, and after a rewarding morning of sifting through the new work that had come in, Alex himself surrounded by his friends in a café that Herc claimed sold the best sandwiches in the city. They chatted and laughed, catching up on Lafayette’s relationship, the growth of John’s pet turtle, Terrence, and Herc’s steadily growing Etsy store. Alex had to hide his surprise at the revelation that Hercules was interested in fashion. Apparently the online shop where he sold his hand-made one-of-a-kind items had been going for a few months now, but this was the first that Alex had heard of it. He silently resolved to spend more time with his friends as John threw his head back laughing at something Hercules had said.

Then, the conversation rolled around to Jefferson.

“He’s such a dick,” John moaned, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Strutting about in those purple suits like an utter moron. Why do people like him when he is so obviously an utter moron?”

“Je ne sais pas,” Laf replied. « Obviously he is an exceedingly attractive man...”

“Shut up, Laf,” John snickered, punching Laf in the arm. “Just because he looks like you doesn’t mean you get to compliment that douche.”

Alex stayed quiet, half glad that he’d already finished his sandwich because he suddenly felt that he had lost his appetite. Hercules glanced over to him.

“You okay, man? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you pass up the chance to rag on Jefferson.”

“That’s true,” John nodded, “Normally you’d be two paragraphs into a rant about how stupid his hair is by now.”

Alex chuckled and tried to seem normal as he smiled. “I’m good, I was just daydreaming.”

Hercules frowned, resting his elbows on the table and leaning in closer.

“Alex,” he said slowly. “Are you sure that you’re all right? Not feeling sick again?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” Alex shook his head, but seeing that Herc wasn’t going to let it go he sighed and let his smile drop. “Ok, so I may have had a bit of a fall out with Jefferson.”

“When were you talking to Jefferson?” John asked, looking confused. Alex wished they could go back to discussing Terrence the turtle’s eating habits but seeing his friends’ expressions he could tell that they were going to keep digging until they got to the bottom of this. He glanced up at the ceiling.

“I sort of had to make a deal with him to maintain his allegiance to Washington.”

“What?” John asked, looking incredulous.

“Alex,” Herc said. “You are the speechwriter. You write the speeches. You don’t make the deals! We have people who make the deals!”

Alex rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly feeling quite tired. “I know, Herc. It was a weird situation.” One look at his friends’ faces told him that they weren’t satisfied with this explanation. “Okay look. I pissed him off last week so he threatened to oppose Washington unless I made it up to him.”

Now Lafayette, John and Hercules looked really worried.

“Alex,” John began, unease evident in his voice, but Laf cut him off.

“Hammie, when you say ‘made it up to him’, please tell us you don’t mean...” he trailed off, and Alex cocked his head in confusion.

“I don’t mean what?” he asked, looking between the three of them.

“What Laf means is that it sounds like Jefferson is pressuring you into providing...sexual favours.” Hercules said calmly. Alex coughed, grabbing for his water bottle and taking a swig.

“No, nothing like that,” he managed through the coughing fit. “Jesus, Herc.”

Hercules held up his hands in an expression of surrender. “Ok, ok good. Because if he were –“

“Jefferson is not pressuring me into providing sexual favours,” Alex said aggressively. “All right? I’m handling him.”

Hercules gave him that same analytical stare once more, but the conversation changed to everyone’s weekend plans and Alex relaxed again. Ten minutes later it was time to leave, and the groups set off for the office once more. It felt good to laugh and talk with everyone, and Alex only realised now that his stress levels had gone down just how stressed out he had been during the last few months. If it wasn’t for George, he wasn’t sure if he’d have made it to this point in one piece.

This thought was still circling his brain as the group returned to the office and went their separate ways to their work stations. As Alex approached his office, George appeared at the end of the corridor and strode towards him, looking a little harried but smiling nonetheless.

“Good afternoon, Alexander,” he said evenly, and Alex responded with a polite “good afternoon, sir.”

“Did you catch the email on the funding reports that I sent you earlier?”

“Yes sir, I’ve added it to the notes on file.”

“Excellent. As you were,” George nodded, smiling down at Alex once more before continuing off down the corridor. Alex caught himself smiling too as he sat down at his desk. He would have been concerned about how readily he cheered up in George’s presence, would have panicked about what that meant and what he should do about it, but it was _George_ and there was simply no need to panic. So Alex allowed himself to smile a moment longer before engrossing himself in the work on his desktop for the rest of the afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #squadgoals


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii :))  
> This chap is dedicated to Lafayettes_Baguette because O H M Y G O S H the comment that you left on the last chapter was so perfect and wonderful and made me very happy!!  
> After the #squad chapter, here we are again at Whamilton headquarters!! Hope you enjoy... 3:)

**General:** Would you like to come over for dinner on Friday night?

 **A.Ham:** I’d love to :)

Alex re-read the text messages on Friday afternoon as he rode the lift up to their floor after his lunch break. They had decided that they would go straight from work to George’s place since it was only fifteen minutes away from the office by car.  He smiled down at his phone as he crossed the office space, stumbling backwards as he bumped into Hercules who was going the other way.

“Shit, sorry man,” Herc said, reaching out to steady Alex. “Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“No prob,” Alex said easily, rubbing his shoulder where he had collided with the larger man. “My bad.”

Hercules stopped and gave Alex that same piercing look as though he were a puzzle that needed to be solved.

“What?” Alex asked, bemused. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Hercules scrutinised him for another moment before replying.

“Nothing, really, just that I’m pretty sure the Alex Hamilton I know would’ve tried – and failed, obviously – to deck me if I bumped into him. Where’s all that pent-up rage gone, man? Don't tell me you've started yoga or some shit like that.”

Alex laughed, amused, and Hercules laughed too but Alex noticed that he still looked unsure.

“It’s nothing, man,” Alex said, punching Hercules gently on the arm. “I’m just feeling a little more relaxed than usual at the moment.”

Hercules smiled. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day you described yourself as relaxed. Whatever it is– or _whoever_ it is _–“_ Alex’s eyes flicked up to Herc’s in alarm. _Am I that easy to read?  – “_ that’s got you all chilled out, I’m glad it’s working for you.”

Alex coughed as Herc slapped him on the back jovially, laughing at the brute strength that was hidden under all those fancy suits.

“Thanks,” he laughed, and started to walk away when Hercules called him back.

“Hey Alex?” he said, sounding more serious again now. “I don’t know if Jefferoni is still giving you trouble but if he is –“

“-Herc –“ Alex cut in, smile fading. Jefferson had been exceedingly unhelpful all week, organising meetings with Washington only to have his secretary cancel them half an hour before the allotted time. This bratty behaviour was clearly still a reaction to Washington’s dismissal the week before, but neither George nor Alex had been able to come up with a quick and practical solution to bring him in line. The sad truth was that they needed him on their side. Alex knew that George was finding it more and more difficult to remain relatively calm about the matter. They needed to resolve it, sooner rather than later.

“No, listen,” Herc rode over Alex’s interjection, lowering his voice and glancing furtively around the office space. “If he _is_ still pressuring you, all you gotta do is tell him that you know about The Incident.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. “The Incident?” he pressed.

“The Incident,” Hercules nodded gravely. “You tell him that you know, and then you say these three words. You listening?”

Alex, caught between amusement and incredulity, just nodded. Hercules whispered, “Monticello, 2009, flip-flop. Repeat that back to me.”

“Um, Monticello, 2009, flip-flops,” Alex parroted, but Hercules shook his head.

“Just one flip-flop.” Suddenly there was a faraway look in his eyes as he murmured, “They never found the other one.”

“Riiiight,” Alex said, plastering a smile on his face. “Well that really does sound interesting, Herc, but I gotta...” He trailed off as he turned and began walking away, hiding his laughter as he retreated.

“It’ll freak him out,” Hercules called after him. As Alex moved away, he heard Herc mumble something along the lines of, “Sure as hell freaked me out.”

Laughing, Alex made his way back to sit down behind his desk and focused on the work in front of him. The afternoon seemed to flow by at a decent pace, but Alex was more than ready to leave when half past five rolled around and he heard a curt knock at his door.

“Come in,” he called, beginning to save the documents open on his screen. He closed everything, swivelled around in his chair and was greeted with the sight of George, coat on and briefcase in hand.

“You ready?” he asked, and Alex grinned.

“Yep!” He jumped up and packed up his things, shoving everything essential into his satchel. “Good to go.”

“Excellent,” George smiled, and together the two of them walked to the stairs. They chatted about work and about the still-appalling weather as they descended the flights down to the basement. Alex, never having owned a car to drive to work, had only been to this floor once before, when George had driven him home. He peered round the large space, still fairly impressed by the cavernous size.

“I’m parked over there,” George said unnecessarily, gesturing to the lone black car, gleaming under the amber lights.

The drive was uneventful. Alex felt himself unwind as he watched the buildings flashing past and the raindrops chasing each other down the window. George hummed along to the classical music playing on the radio, and Alex let his mind wander. When they arrived, he was a little surprised to see the beautiful house they’d arrived at. It wasn’t the beauty of the house that was surprising, but the fact that a house like this could be found situated so close to the world of offices and corporate blandness that both George and Alex inhabited during working hours.

George ushered Alex inside, showing him to a pristine kitchen. Alex perched on a barstool by the kitchen counter as George set his things down and began pulling ingredients out of cupboards.

“I hope you’re hungry,” George said casually as he pulled a bag of pasta from the top shelf of a cupboard with ease.

“Oh, I am,” Alex said, letting his voice turn a little husky. “I’m very hungry, George.”

He had meant it as a joke, but when George turned to look at him, Alex noted the interested gleam in his eyes.

“Good,” he replied, voice low, and Alex felt a shiver go down his spine. “Me too.”

Alex looked around the room as George continued with his preparations. It was all very modern with the exception of one painting between the two windows. Alex admittedly didn’t know much about art, but he was fairly certain that this was impressionism. He studied the image of what he was pretty sure were haystacks in a field, curiosity caught by the colours of the light.

“I like that painting,” he said, and George looked over at it, smiling.

“It reminds me of home,” he replied. “Where I grew up in Virginia.”

“Tell me more about that,” Alex said, leaning forward to rest his head on his hands. “Tell me about your childhood.”

“Well,” George began as he chopped up some tomatoes. “I was born in Westmoreland County, near a place called Pope’s Creek...”

As George talked, Alex closed his eyes and listened to the timbre of his voice. Soon, the delicious smell of George’s cooking wafted across the kitchen, and Alex hummed in pleasure, opening his eyes.

“That smells awesome, wow.”

George laughed, stirring something in a saucepan. Alex realised that George was wearing an apron. This seemed to him to be a Very Important Thing Indeed, and he allowed himself to stare appreciatively at the sight of this formidable man so relaxed and in his element. Soon, George pronounced the food ready to be eaten, and Alex sat down at the table, suddenly ravenous. George brought the two bowls of pasta over, and Alex’s mouth watered. At his first bite, he couldn’t help the short moan that escaped him.

“That. Is. So. Good.” He said, looking blissed out as he took a second bite. “Why am I not surprised that you’re such a good cook?”

Across the table, George just smiled and took a bite of his own portion. Alex decided that this response wasn’t acceptable, and so with his next bite he let out the most pornographic moan he could manage.

“Really,” he moaned, feeling mischievous, “this is _really_ hitting the spot.”

“Is it now,” George said, and Alex grinned as he saw that there was a predatory glint in his eye. “I’m glad you like my...cooking...so much, Alexander.”

Alex’s mind raced as he tried to up the stakes of their little game even further.

“Yeah,” he whispered breathily, feeling a spark of delight as he took in the way that George’s eyes darkened at the sound. “I like your... _cooking..._ very much. In fact, I’d like some more, please.”

George didn’t move for a moment and Alex blushed, suddenly worried that he’d taken the charade too far. But then George spoke again, and what he said sent tingles shooting down to Alex’s gut.

“Be a good boy and finish what you have there first,” George replied, using that authoritative voice that brooked no argument. Alex raised his eyes to look directly into George’s.

“Yes sir,” he said, bringing his fork to his mouth and wrapping his lips around it as he took the pasta into his mouth and swallowed. “I’ll show you just how good I can be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: SIN!!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go...
> 
> Katie  
> x

Alex got through the rest of the meal as quickly as possible – he did have seconds, but only because George did first – and finally, _finally,_ George placed his knife and fork diagonally across the plate to signify that the meal was over. Alex’s eyes flicked upwards as he began to stand up, but George, a teasing smile on his face, waved at him to sit back down.

“Why Alexander,” he said. “We haven’t had desert yet!”

Alex could’ve screamed. His blood was already pounding at an elevated pace throughout his body with the promise and tension hanging in the air. George went to the fridge, moving at a leisurely pace, and pulled out an apple crumble. Even through his impatience, Alex salivated as the scent of apples and cinnamon hit his nostrils.

“Now, I could warm this up in the microwave...” George was saying, but Alex jumped in.

“Cold is fine,” he said, grinning perhaps a little manically. George’s responding laugh suggested he knew exactly what this waiting was doing to Alex.

“Cold it is,” he said, moving two slices into bowls and sliding them onto the table before turning to fetch the spoons. Again, the food was delicious and, again, Alex ate it as quickly as possible. George quirked a smile as he collected the bowls and put them on the counter.

“Coffee?” he asked. “Or another glass of-“

“No,” said Alex, standing up now and crossing the room. “No more.”

George turned slowly to look down at Alex.

“Very well,” he said, eyes flicking between Alex’s eyes and his lips. “What, then?”

Alex took that as permission to reach up and crash their lips together in a searing kiss. As they stood in the middle of the kitchen, he brought his arms up to wrap around George’s neck, standing on his toes and leaning into the taller man. George kissed him back with a passion that suggested his patient exterior had been nothing but pretense, and Alex marveled at the combination of the taste of apples, cinnamon, and something else distinct yet indefinable. George’s lips were soft against his, and he hummed a little in pleasure at the sensation. They broke apart, Alex lowering his heels back to the floor, feeling a little dazed as he stared up into George’s eyes.

“Bedroom?” George whispered quickly.

“Bedroom.” Alex replied, grabbing hold of George’s hand before being pulled through the house. He didn’t even glance around him as they passed room after room, utterly fixated on George and the way his heart seemed to sing at the feeling of his hand being held in George’s own.

George opened a door to reveal a king sized bed. The deep green colour of the sheets and matching pillows was accentuated by the fresh white of the soft carpet, but Alex only had eyes for George. His shoes seemed to sink into the floor as he stepped inside, but he paid little attention to the decor as George toed off his own shoes and sat back to sit on the edge of the bed. Alex kicked his shoes off too, not registering where they ended up as he stepped forwards and slid his hands over George’s shoulders. George responded by leaning up to capture Alex’s lips in another kiss. Alex gasped as he felt George tonguing at his lips, and George took advantage of his open mouth to deepen the kiss.

They broke apart, panting, and Alex began tugging at George’s suit jacket.

“Off,” he said, unable to form more words. George looked up at him with a grin, complying and shedding the jacket. He loosened his tie as well and discarded it before beginning to fiddle with Alex’s tie in return. Once that had gone too, George brought his hands round to the back of Alex’s head and tugged his hair out of the ponytail. He tried to be as gentle as possible, but accidentally yanked a few strands. Alex’s responding yelp and the red flush of colour that appeared on his cheeks prompted George to kiss the younger man again. When George pulled Alex’s hair once more – this time a calculated move – Alex’s moan confirmed George’s suspicion.

“So you like having your hair pulled, huh?” he said, and Alex nodded furiously, eyes wide and pupils blown. “You mean like this?” George teased, gripping Alex’s hair tightly once more. Alex sucked in a breath and his hands spasmed for a moment before coming to settle on the hard planes of George’s chest.

“Yes,” Alex breathed desperately, and with that noise George’s self-restraint evaporated. He secured his arms around Alex’s waist before pulling him onto his lap, knees either side of George’s legs. Their growing hardness was difficult to ignore in this position, and George slid his hands further down to Alex’s hips as he leaned up to kiss along his collar bone. Alex moaned again, writhing within George’s grip.

“Jacket off,” he growled, and Alex hurried to obey, fumbling in his haste to free himself from the offending article. Then it was Alex’s turn as he began to undo the buttons of George’s crisp white shirt, revealing the smooth chest hidden underneath. Once he was done, he pressed on George’s shoulders and George allowed himself to be pushed, lying back on top of the duvet. Alex leaned back to marvel at the sight before him, but George growled impatiently and flipped them over until he was looking down at Alex, whose hair was fanned out over the duvet.

“Beautiful,” George murmured as he resumed his exploration of Alex’s collar bone. “So beautiful.”

Alex keened in response and his hands flew to the buttons on his own shirt, but George pulled away, tutting.

“Patience, Alexander,” he said, eyes flashing as Alex’s hands returned to his sides, clenching around the duvet. “All in good time.”

Alex tried very hard to keep quiet, breathing raggedly as George meticulously unbuttoned his shirt and maneuvered his arms to take it off completely before moving to Alex’s belt. George paused there and glanced up questioningly, a slow smile spreading across his face at Alex’s frenzied nodding.

He pressed a kiss to Alex’s navel, just below the belly button, before fiddling with the buckle. He lifted Alex’s hips off the bed to pull the belt free, and had Alex been capable of higher thought at that moment in time he might have wondered at the ease with which George lifted him. As it was, he just gasped at the sensation and continued to repress all the little noises which were trying to escape him.

“You’ve gone quiet, Alexander,” George said pensively, leaning down to press a kiss against the front of Alex’s trousers. Alex gasped at the sudden pressure, canting his hips upwards in search of friction but George pulled away.

“Uh uh uh,” he tutted. “Remember what you told me earlier? When you said you would be a good boy?”

Alex whimpered, and George rewarded him by popping the button of his trousers.

“Please,” Alex breathed. “Please, please, please,”

“Please what?” George said, stroking Alex’s dick through his trousers and smiling in pleasure at the moan that followed.

“Anything!” Alex gasped. “Please, George, give me something!”

At those words, George unzipped Alex’s trousers and slid them slowly down his legs. Alex’s hands tensed and he dug his nails into the sheets as George slid his boxers down too. Alex’s breath hitched as George leaned in closer. He licked up the underside of Alex’s dick before taking the head into his mouth and sucking experimentally. Alex groaned, feet writhing and head tilting back, his eyes squeezed tight shut. George pulled off.

“Open your eyes, Alex,” he said, voice low and ragged. “I want you to watch. Want you to see exactly what I’m doing to you.”

Alex’s whimper was accompanied by the flutter of his eyelids as he did his best to obey, battling the instinct to close his eyes against the pleasure.

“There’s my good boy,” George said approvingly, returning to his task and taking Alex back into his mouth. He continued his exploration, noting which of his actions made Alex tense and which caused those delicious little gasps and moans to fall from his lips. Suddenly, he surged forward, taking more of Alex’s length into his mouth, and Alex fell apart. Incoherent words sprung from him and his chest heaved with exertion as George swirled his tongue and breathed through his nose.

“George,” Alex said, his voice impossibly high. “George, stop, I’m going to – I’m –“

George pulled away, looking up to meet Alex’s lust-filled gaze. He felt saliva on his lips as he dragged his hands down Alex’s chest, raking his nails across the soft skin.

“Do it,” he commanded, wrapping a hand around Alex’s length. "Want to see you fall apart for me like a good boy. Show me how good you are, Alex," and Alex could do nothing other than obey.

 When he was spent, George leaned down to drop a kiss onto Alex’s lips, and Alex smiled languidly. He kicked his trousers and boxers off, watching them disappear over the edge of the bed. His eyelids were suddenly heavy, but through the blissful haze Alex remembered something very important.

“You,” he said groggily. “You didn’t –“

“It doesn't matter,” George said, climbing off the bed to fetch a cleansing wipe from the cabinet. He gently cleaned the mess off Alex’s stomach, his own hardness still evident through his trousers. At the sight, Alex suddenly felt much more awake. He scooted back on the bed until his back was against the headboard, and gestured to George to join him there, who, seeing Alex’s hungry expression, did so immediately. He climbed onto George’s lap, taking the opportunity to explore the expanse of skin across his chest with both hands as he did so.

Next, he replaced them with his tongue, allowing his hands to sweep a little lower and George tilted his head back against the headboard, panting now. “Alexander,” he groaned, and Alex grinned devilishly, slowing his pace even further. George growled yet again, and Alex felt his dick stir slightly at the noise. Their eyes locked as Alex’s hand went to George’s belt. He released the buckle, tossing the belt aside, not caring where it landed, then shoved both George’s trousers and underwear down at once, exposing him to the cool air of the room.

“Lube?” Alex asked, and George gestured wordlessly to the cabinet. Alex rolled off to retrieve it, returning to his position moments later with the bottle in his hand. He popped the lid with an audible _click,_ pouring a generous amount onto his palm and warming it slightly between his hands before reaching down to grasp George’s length in one hand. He began with gentle, tentative strokes, but at the lustful look George gave him he soon increased his speed, twisting his hand slightly as it neared the head. George groaned loudly, and it only took a few more strokes before he was coming.

When George came back to himself, the room was filled with the sound of his laboured breathing mingled with Alex’s. Alex had found the packet of wipes and had done his best to clean them both up before shuffling to the en suite bathroom in search of a bin. George kicked off his trousers and reached under his pillow for the loose pyjamas he wore, tugging the trousers up to cover himself. He lay there for a moment more, basking in the afterglow, before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, avoiding the obstacle course of discarded clothing littering his bedroom floor. Alex was washing his hands at the sink, turning as he heard George enter.

“Hey,” he said, smiling.

George smiled fondly in reply. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Stay with me tonight?”

Alex nodded, grin spreading across his face. George reached into the cupboard and retrieved a spare toothbrush for Alex. The two of them brushed their teeth in silence, both reveling in the new kind of intimacy created by this domestic scene. When they were done, Alex put his toothbrush in the holder next to George’s, secretly very pleased by the sight. He followed George back into the bedroom, George opening a drawer to bring out a large grey t-shirt. He held it out to Alex, who pulled it on over his head, laughing at the sight of it stretching half way down to his knees. George pulled back the covers, and Alex climbed in beside him, turning to press his back against George’s chest. George’s arms enveloped him, and although Alex felt sure that he would never fall asleep when his mind was buzzing with excitement and hope and a little bit of fear as it was right now, it wasn’t long until his breaths evened out to match George’s and his eyelids fluttered shut.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone :) thanks for sticking around this long!! I love all of your feedback so so much - thanks to everyone who has left a comment! You're all awesome (wow!)
> 
> Katie  
> xxx

It was Alex who woke up first. His first thought was that he was warm. His apartment had been growing colder and colder with the weather outside, but this morning Alex felt comfortable. Warmth radiated off George’s bare chest, and Alex snuggled backwards, trying in vain to get even closer to the man still sleeping behind him. Alex lay there for a while, dozing, loving the peace of this perfect moment. The weight of George’s arm slung over Alex’s hip was comforting, and he felt yet again that sense of safety that George seemed to inspire in him. He pulled down the duvet to free his arm from where he had been curled up underneath it, stretching down to play with George’s fingers. He marveled at the softness of those hands as he ran his fingers over them in swirling patterns. George shifted behind him.

Alex turned over carefully so that he could fully examine the wonder that was George. He had never seen him in deep sleep before, and Alex enjoyed the fact that he could stare as much as he liked at the way George’s broad chest rose and fell with each quiet breath and the gentle curl of his lip that hinted at a smile even in sleep. He shuffled a little higher up the bed so that he could reach George’s collarbone, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin there. George’s hand moved to tangle in Alex’s hair but his eyelids didn’t move.

Alex continued, his kisses journeying all the way across George’s chest and up to his neck until George finally opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” Alex said, feeling a sudden inexplicable shyness as George surveyed him.

“Hi,” George managed, voice low and hoarse from sleep. “What time is it?”

Alex yawned. “No idea,” he admitted, leaning back onto the bed and moulding himself against George’s side.

“Mmm,” George hummed. “I love Saturdays.” His hand began to move in Alex’s hair, teasing out the tangled strands.

“You know what else I love?” George continued, voice sounding a little clearer now even as he shut his eyes again against the light breaking into the room. Suddenly Alex felt wide awake and he couldn’t help a sudden tension entering his body as he leaned back to look into George’s face in alarm. Was he going to...?

But George’s eyes were still closed, his posture suggesting that he hadn’t picked up on Alex’s shift in mode.

“Breakfast,” he finished with a smile, peaking one eye open to look at Alex again. “You hungry? I make a mean omelette.”

Alex relaxed again, flopping back again and stretching an arm around George’s waist.

“Maybe in a minute. Lets just stay here for now.”

“Whatever you say, beautiful,” George murmured, and Alex hid his blush by pressing his face against the duvet.

After breakfast – George really did make a great omelette, the man had serious skills with a frying pan – the pair of them sat down at the table with their laptops, not needing to discuss this since they both understood the importance of work, even on a lazy Saturday morning. Alex caught himself looking forward to just sitting in George’s presence, both working but sharing the quiet of the room together, and he smiled. _What turned you into such a sap, Hamilton?_ He asked himself, but when he looked across the table to see George smiling back at him he knew the answer. They settled, both opening their laptops and pausing as the computers started up. But when Alex opened his emails, his smile wavered.

_From: T. Jefferson_

_Subject: Tonight (!)_

_Good morning, Mr Hamilton. Tonight I will be at the Virginia from 9pm and I most sincerely hope that you will do me the honor of joining me there. I assure you that it would be within everyone’s best interests for you to do so._

_T. Jefferson_

Alex didn’t even have to think about it.

“George?” He said, and the man looked up, hearing the note of unhappiness in Alex’s voice. Wordlessly, Alex spun the laptop around and pushed it over so that George could read the email. A frown appeared on George’s face, and there was a kind of fire burning in his eyes when he met Alex’s gaze.

“Ok. We will sort this out. Together, all right?”

Alex nodded firmly. “Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but (hopefully) sweet! Next chap will be longer x


	22. Chapter 22

One cup of coffee later, and Alex and George had begun to formulate a plan. George, still sipping at his tea, nodded as Alex recounted everything he could remember that could possibly be of use from the previous Sunday night.

“The bartender was called Sally,” he said, “but Jefferson mostly called her pet names, I think.”

“Did you get the impression that she felt objectified by him, or did they have the sort of relationship where that would be appropriate?” George asked.

Alex pulled a face. “Hard to tell. She didn’t say very much, she just did whatever Jefferson said.” He sighed. “I don’t think that she would be much help now considering that she didn’t step in on Sunday. It was pretty clear that I didn’t want to be there.”

“Ok,” George said, his tone purposeful. “What else? You said that Jefferson’s whole team was there?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, and then he stopped.

“Alex?” George prompted. Alex turned to look at him, and George felt his tense shoulders relax a little as he saw that the Alexander Hamilton trademark spark was back.

“I’ve thought of something.” Alex began slowly, but his words began to speed up as he got more excited.

“Madison was there – James Madison – and he seemed, I dunno, pretty uncomfortable with what Jefferson was doing from what I remember.” Alex paused for a moment, then began nodding determinedly, hands beginning to dance as he continued.

“I remember him telling Jefferson to stop, and to call me a cab or something, and he didn’t really drink much either. Everyone else was making the most of the free bar,” he rolled his eyes.

“Obviously you know that Madison and Jefferson always vote together, but if we could get to Madison, get him to realise what a colossal dick Jefferson is, maybe we don’t need Jefferson at all...”

He trailed off, brain obviously whirring, and George remained silent, watching.

“No, it isn’t enough,” Alex conceded after a while, disappointment clear in his voice. “Even with Madison on our side, we still need Jefferson’s support. Madison just doesn’t have enough sway.”

George reached over and took Alex’s hand. “It’s a start,” he said, squeezing Alex’s hand in his own. “And it’s worth a try, I’d say.”

Alex nodded slowly. “I’ll give Madison a call and see what I can do.”

*

When Alex managed to unearth Madison’s number and get through to him, he couldn’t stop pacing up and down the room, phone pressed against his ear. He felt oddly nervous considering he was safe in George’s house, wearing clothes borrowed from George’s wardrobe. Despite the comfortingly familiar scent of the clothing, Alex felt on edge as he heard Madison say, “James Madison speaking.”

Alex swallowed.

“Hello, it’s Alexander Hamilton.”

“Hamilton?” Madison asked, sounding surprised and a little suspicious. “How can I help you?”

Alex looked around the room as he considered how to respond to that.

“I’m sorry to call on a Saturday but this is fairly urgent. To be blunt, Mr Madison, I’m calling about the events of last Sunday.”

There was a noise from the other end of the phone which could have been a cough. Alex pressed on.

“Madison, on Sunday night Jefferson forced me to get drunk and left me passed out behind the bar. Are you really sure that this is a man you want to back? I know you’re political partners but think about it for a moment, please.”

“Hamilton, I really don’t –“ Madison interjected but Alex kept going and the other voice fell silent.

 “Let me give you some context. There was a situation in the office last week and Senator Washington asked Jefferson to leave so that he could deal with it. Jefferson is blowing this whole thing out of proportion, acting like it’s my fault that he’s been treated disrespectfully so that he can manipulate me.”

There was a pause, and then a sigh.

“So, what do you want with me?” Madison replied, though from his tone Alex thought he already knew.

“Please, Madison. We can’t afford to lose both of your votes but if Jefferson insists on behaving this way, it looks like we have no choice about his. But if we knew that you would still back us, that you would stick to what you agreed to and not back out like Jefferson seems to be doing...”

Alex trailed off, crossing his fingers that his hunch about Madison had been correct. When Madison spoke again, he sounded resigned.

“All right, Hamilton. You have my vote.”

Alex exhaled silently in relief, walking back to the kitchen to make a thumbs up at George. Madison was still speaking, his voice full of warning.

“But Thomas likes to get his own way. If he’s decided to make an example of you so that he feels in control, I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it.”

“Thank you, Madison. This really means a lot.”

 “Don’t go thinking we’re friends now. You have my political support and my sympathy for what transpired on Sunday, but that is the extent of our relationship. Goodbye, Hamilton”.

And before Alex could reply, his phone beeped to let him know that the call had ended. He moved back towards the table, dropping his phone down on the surface.

“That sounded positive,” George said, putting down his own phone and standing up to stretch his arms out.

“It’s progress, at least,” Alex replied, a distracted smile on his face. “Honestly it was easier than I thought. I guess Madison really was unhappy about Jefferson’s behaviour. I always thought the two of them were pretty close.”

“Maybe they are,” George said pensively. “But it’s when you’re closest to someone that you see them for who they really are. Maybe Madison realised that Jefferson isn’t the kind of man he wants to be associated with.”

“Maybe,” Alex shrugged. “Either way, it’s good for us. Now, what are we going to do about tonight?”

*

In the end, they’d decided that the only thing to do was for Alex to go to the meeting. George had been unhappy with it, and had only agreed on the condition that he was waiting nearby in the car and that Alex texted or called him if it looked like the evening would be a repeat of the previous week. It wasn’t until they were driving there that Alex remembered his conversation with Hercules from earlier in the week. He thumbed a text as George turned a corner.

**A. Ham:** Hey man, were you serious about that Monticello, 2009, flip flop thing? This is very important please reply ASAP.

He didn’t have to wait long before his phone buzzed with a response.

 **Herc:** I was 100% serious. Turns out I’m pretty good at this spy shit. Tell Jefferoni that you know about The Incident, then hit him with the words. I swear it will work.

Alex considered this as the car neared its destination. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose at this point, and he trusted Hercules.

**A. Ham:** Ok, I believe you. Thanks.

**Herc:** Promise me you’re safe, Alex. Jefferson is unpredictable.

**A. Ham:** Don’t worry, I have backup.

**Herc:** Now we both sound like spies. Good luck with your mission, bro.

Alex looked up from his phone as the car ground to a halt. They had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, after two filler-ish chapters, I can promise that the next one is action-packed! Thanks for reading (and for your patience!)


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for still being here everyone, we're nearing the end now ( nooooooooooooooo) and your interest and support continues to make my day and make me smile a lot so THANKS :)
> 
> Katie  
> xxx

He looked across the car to George, whose hands were tense on the steering wheel. Alex’s hands fluttered a little as he fumbled with the seatbelt, finally managing to unclip the clasp. The both sat there for a moment in silence. Alex spoke first.

“It’s going to be fine, George,” he said quietly. “I’ll buy him his drink and I’ll convince him to get off our backs. I can be persuasive when I want to be.” The last sentence was said with an attempt at a smile but it fell a little flat and George’s head dropped as he stared at his hands.

“You know I don't like this, but I trust you, son. I’ll be right outside. The moment you feel uncomfortable, you call me, understood?”

“Yes sir,” Alex said, and George laughed weakly at the title.

“Good luck, my boy. Be safe.”

When Alex walked into the bar, he saw that Jefferson had chosen yet again to perch in one of the high bar stools, body language exuding confidence and that smug sense of superiority. The place was busy again, but this time Alex could see another seat near Jefferson. He made his way towards it, manoeuvring it into the right position before hoisting himself up to the same height as Jefferson.

“Good evening, Mr Jefferson,” he said. “May I buy you a drink?”

Jefferson leaned over, resting one elbow on the bar in what was obviously meant to seem like a casual and nonchalant move.

“Fancy seeing you here, Mr Hamilton,” he replied, flicking his eyes up and down as he appraised Alex’s appearance. “I see you dressed more _appropriately_ tonight.”

Alex suppressed the irritation that the remark sparked inside him. He had prepared for battle this time, dressed in his smartest suit. The tie was his favourite part of the ensemble, since it actually didn’t belong to him at all. When George had offered it as a good luck charm, Alex had accepted – sealing the deal with a kiss, of course – but now he worried that the move had been too bold. What if Jefferson recognised the tie as one of Washington’s?

Alex’s thoughts were interrupted as Jefferson continued. “Scotch on the rocks,” he commanded.

 _Please,_ Alex filled in silently, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the blatant bad manners. _He likes to feel in control,_ he reminded himself. _Make him think he’s in control._

Alex nodded demurely and turned to the bar. When two glasses of scotch appeared, Alex taking one for himself, Jefferson smiled widely.

“Ah, he’s learning! Good boy,” he purred, and Alex struggled to maintain a neutral expression and avoid a shiver of revulsion at hearing those words from this man. Instead, he waited for Jefferson to drink first before silently sipping his own.

“Feeling a little shy tonight, are we Mr Hamilton?” Jefferson asked teasingly, the edge of malice in his voice putting Alex’s back up. “You were far more _fun_ last week.”

Alex forced himself to meet Jefferson’s eyes. “I’m sorry if I seem a little quiet, sir. What would you like to discuss? Perhaps the conditions of your allegiance to Senator Washington?”

“Hmm,” Jefferson hummed, tilting his head in a parody of thought. “I suppose we could discuss that... but a certain saying about mixing business and pleasure comes to mind. Are you familiar with that, Mr Hamilton?”

“With the notion of not mixing business and pleasure, sir? Yes, I am.” It was taking all of Alex’s strength to maintain the light, conversational tone. He hoped that Jefferson wouldn’t notice how tightly he was gripping the glass in his hand.

“Oh good. I thought that perhaps you wouldn’t have heard of it back in...” Here Jefferson waved his hand dismissively, “back in _your country_.”

Alex steeled himself. “America is my country, sir, and I have always done my best to serve her.”

 _Unlike you, you self-serving asshole_ he finished silently. Jefferson raised an eyebrow, murmuring, “of course, of course,” in such a patronising way that Alex thought he could literally feel his brain cells exploding like popcorn kernels through his efforts to remain civil. _Try one more time, Hamilton,_ he told himself. _Just try and get through to him one last time._

Alex put down his still-full glass and looked Jefferson directly in the eye.

“Mr Jefferson, what will it take to regain your support?”

Jefferson looked back at him, and for a moment Alex thought that he was going to get a straight answer. But then that smirk slid back onto his face, and Alex knew that this was a negotiation he was never going to win. Not when Jefferson had nothing to gain by upholding his deals except the ability to sleep at night and the knowledge that he was an honest man.

“My my, Hamilton! Straight to the point I see!” Jefferson laughed, then he leaned in so close that Alex could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Personally I prefer a little foreplay,” he whispered, and Alex jolted as he suddenly felt the weight of Jefferson’s hand on his knee. He yanked himself back and slammed a hand down on the bar.

“Monticello. 2009. Flip flop,” he said.

 

The reaction was instantaneous.

 

 Jefferson sat back, eyes wide with shock, mouth falling open.

“How do you know about that?” he shrieked, staring at Alex as though he had just let slip that magic was real.

Alex kept the surprise he felt inside out of his carefully schooled expression, instead continuing calmly,

“Yes, I know about The Incident, Thomas.”

Jefferson was shaking his head now, looking hurriedly around the room to check that no one else was listening.

“I don’t know how you found out, Hamilton, but...”

Jefferson seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment before his shoulders slumped and he looked up with defeat written across his features.

“How many people know?” he asked, and Alex could have danced at the sound of Jefferson so dejected.

“Just me,” he said casually. “For now.”

Jefferson gulped, then mumbled something underneath his breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Alex asked, and Jefferson scowled.

“Keep it to yourself and you’ll have my support,” he spat, and Alex felt fireworks exploding in his chest at the victory.

“Deal,” he said, reaching out to grab Jefferson’s hand and shaking it enthusiastically. Jefferson snatched his hand back and downed the rest of his drink before standing and glaring at Alex.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Alex said cheerfully, unable to stop himself from grinning as Jefferson turned and slunk away.

 _I owe Herc a drink,_ he thought, pulling out his phone to tell George the good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all wanted some fantastical story but I'm afraid that I decided a long while ago that it would be more effective to leave it up to you to decide! However I have LOVED reading your theories (looking at you here, lafayettes_baguette !) and if any of you want to explore this in your own writing, please feel free! 
> 
> I will give you one clue about The Incident:
> 
> "Turn around, bend over, I'll show you where my shoe fits!"


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. The last chapter.

It was only logical, really. Since George’s house was so much closer to the office, Alex could spend less time travelling and more time writing if he spent the night. And of course, there was George’s cooking to consider.

This was what Alex told himself one week after winning Jefferson’s support as he climbed into George’s car with a rucksack full of belongings. PJs, a few sets of clothes, slippers – nothing vital but Alex was secretly looking forward to seeing these little markers of his presence in George’s house. A reminder that he of all people had been welcomed and accepted into his home.

“What are you smiling about?” George asked, leaning over to kiss Alex’s cheek as he fastened his seatbelt. Alex blushed. The novelty of their relationship still hadn’t worn off, but Alex had a feeling that even when it did, when the butterflies he felt melted away into a constant warmth and sense of belonging, he would love it just as much.

“Nothing,” he smiled, reaching over to grab George’s hand and squeeze it. “Just...”

He trailed off, and George turned to look at him in curiosity. Alex looked away coyly.

“I’m excited,” he said, letting his hair fall into his face as he tried to hide his smile. As he had hoped, George leaned over to tuck his hair behind his ear. Alex closed his eyes, humming happily.

“Me too,” Alex heard from somewhere near his ear, and then there was a sound of movement and he felt the car purr into life. Alex didn’t open his eyes for a while, content to allow the sounds of the car to wash over him. They moved relatively quickly through the city, or perhaps it only felt that way to Alex, relaxed as he was. He was surprised when he felt the car grind to a stop and opened his eyes blearily as George took out the keys and unfastened his seatbelt.

“We here already?” Alex said, fighting a yawn. George looked over to him, amused.

“Traffic was terrible, love,” George replied. “That took twice the amount of time it should have done.”

George made a move to get out the car but Alex put a hand on George’s arm and he stilled. Alex’s heart had begun to beat a little faster and one word was on repeat through his brain. Alex flicked his eyes up to meet George’s.

“Love?” he asked, voice so quiet it was barely audible. George’s eyes widened but he didn’t move. The car was filled with the sound of their breathing. They stared at each other, neither sure quite what to do. Then Alex’s lips curved into a small, hopeful smile, and George responded in kind. George took Alex’s other hand in his own.

“I quite like that as a pet name,” George said, in a tone which would have been casual were his voice not a fraction breathier than usual. “What do you think?”

Alex nodded, and leaned in for a gentle kiss. “I love it.”

*

Two weeks later and Alex was for all intents and purposes living at George’s. They had settled into a comfortable routine of waking up together, stumbling around the bedroom in a sleepy daze – George was always on the grumpy side until he’d had his breakfast – and heading into the office in George’s car, but Alex always walked up the stairs to their office first, leaving George to sit in the car for a while to avoid suspicion. But even despite this precaution, Alex could see a tell-tale twinkle in Lafayette’s eye when he arrived at Alex’s office door one Tuesday morning.

“Salut, mon petit lion,” he greeted, sweeping inside and perching on the edge of Alex’s desk. “And how are you this morning?”

“Hey,” Alex said, minimizing the document on his screen and turning to give his friend his full attention. His smile turned suspicious as he saw Lafayette’s expression. “What?” he asked, crossing his arms defensively.

“Well, little Hammie,” Laf mused, “I couldn’t help but notice how happy you’ve seemed recently.”

Alex just quirked an eyebrow, waiting.

“And it occurred to me...” Laf continued, looking around the room as though he were discussing the interior decorating. “That Le Général is also seeming in a particularly good mood.”

Now Lafayette zeroed in on Alex, who suddenly thought that he understood how bugs must feel under a microscope. “Anything you would like to share, mon ami?”

Alex rubbed a hand through his hair – he had begun leaving it down during the day – and tried to hide his smile. He glanced at the clock. It was 11:45. Close enough.

“Ok. See if the others are free,” Alex said decisively. “We need a team meeting.”

*

“You and Washington?” John gasped, looking absolutely astounded. “What? How did that even happen?”

“I knew something was up, man, but I gotta say I didn’t think it would be this,” Herc laughed, clapping Alex on the shoulder and making him start.

Lafayette just cackled. He was now claiming that he’d known all along, the bastard. Alex just took another bite of his sandwich. They were sat around a table at that sandwich place, having taken an early lunch for their Very Important Business Meeting.

“Yep,” Alex managed. “Me and Washington.”

Hercules whistled. John gaped, then seemed to realise that this was rude and promptly shut his mouth. Lafayette smirked.

Alex and George had briefly discussed when they might tell people about their relationship a few nights ago. George had come out publicly a few years back, and so wasn’t extremely worried about the public reaction. Still, they were both enjoying the privacy they were currently being afforded, and didn’t see any reason to make a grand declaration and find themselves splashed across tabloid pages under sordid, alliterative headlines.

George had left the telling of Alex’s friends up to him. Looking around at the almost comic expressions on his friends faces, Alex almost wished he hadn’t bothered.

“So, how is Terrence the turtle doing, John?” he tried, but John shook his head.

“Nuh uh,” he said, “You need to give us all the details first.”

Alex looked to Herc and Laf for help but only found matching wicked expressions. Lafayette had leaned forward, elbows on the table and head resting on his hands.

“Yes, do tell Hammie!” he teased.

Despite himself, Alex felt a smile creep onto his face.

“All right,” he groaned. “So you know how I never used to get enough sleep...”

*

That weekend, Alex and George were reclining on the couch, George’s hand carding absentmindedly through Alex’s hair as they half-watched some documentary on the flat screen. It was a Saturday afternoon but all either of them wanted to do was stay in where it was cosy and warm.

“George?” Alex asked, turning around to face the older man.

“Yes, love?”

Alex paused. He had been about to suggest that they change the channel, but the now-familiar pet name had changed his mind. George looked away from the TV at Alex’s silence.

“What is it, Alex?”

“I –“

For once in his life, Alexander Hamilton found himself unable to express the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

“Love?” George prompted, concerned now.

“That’s just it,” Alex said, voice low. “I think - I love you, George.”

George swallowed, and oh no, his eyes looked all melty and –

“Oh my god, don’t cry!” Alex said, horrified, but George just laughed wildly and caught Alex between his arms for a hug.

“I love you too, Alexander,” he whispered. “So much.” Relief crashed through Alex like a tidal wave, and he felt that little bit of tension in him loosen as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.After a moment, George pulled back, cupping the side of Alex's face with one large hand and leaning in gently for a slow kiss. And Alex realised that he'd had nothing to fear - George had been telling him for weeks now how he felt.

He had shown his love in the mornings, when he got Alex's coffee just right and made him breakfast and planted little kisses on the top of his head. He had shown it in the afternoons, when he would treat Alex as he always had at work, not letting their private relationship colour their professional one - George knew him well enough to know that Alex would have run a mile if he'd thought he was getting special treatment at work. He had shown it in the evenings, when his muted shuffling around the kitchen evolved into a slow dance, the two of them spinning around as the radio crooned. And George had most definitely shown his love at night, when the pace picked up along with their racing heartbeats and the lazy contentment of their evening crescendoed into something that set both of them on fire.

And now, George was showing his love through this gentle kiss, and Alex decided to make sure that George could feel his love, too. Once they had broken apart, they stayed on the couch, as close as possible to each other, until the lack of movement began to get uncomfortable.

“Hey,” Alex whispered. “Do you want to go take a nap?”

“Together?” George asked. “I can’t think of anything better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling weirdly emotional right now - I guess it isn't weird actually because I did cry the first time I wrote the ending and now it is ending all over again!! I have loved getting to chat with you in the comments and reading your opinions and brilliant ideas. I'm sure I won't be able to stay away for long so watch this space and hopefully I'll be back soon with something new!  
> Thank you for encouraging me and inspiring me and above all making me smile. I love you all!!
> 
> Katie  
> xxx

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! Any comments would be greatly appreciated. Thanks! x
> 
> My tumblr is listentothemusicofthenight - please come find me if you want to! :)


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